A Peacekeepers Duty
by T.j.98
Summary: Everybody has a story to tell, but not everybody gets to tell their story. Lysander Hardley is a peacekeeper, so his job is to maintain order. However, he and all the other peacekeepers will be givin an impossible task: defend their homeland.
1. Chapter 1: Landing

Chapter 1

As I wait in my seat, listening to the rumbling of the hovercraft and the quiet breathing of the other peacekeepers, I can't help but think that it seems the day I signed up as a peacekeeper seems like barely an instant ago. Yet it wasn't, it was two years ago. Oppositely, watching my first cousin Cato during the hunger games seems like it was a lifetime past, yet that was only three months ago. I'm sure I'm not the only one who wonders where this hovercraft will land. That will be where I and all the others within will be stationed for the next eighteen years. I don't have any regrets about my enlistment, I've always wanted to be a peacekeeper. Even when I was young, I would listen earnestly to my grandfather. A retired peacekeeper himself, he often told of his experiences in the cavalry during the Dark days, when the half of the districts rebelled. The traitors were doomed from the start, fighting against brave boys in white. Compared to that, cement mixing or stone quarrying seemed to pale in comparison. Not even being a career in the hunger games held as much promise.

I still remember the 74th hunger games. O how I hated all of it! The rule change, the favoritism, the outcome, but most of all I hated and still hate the victors. It is not just that Katness and Peeta played the Capitol into practically crowning them halfway through, even rewriting the rules just for them. I might have been able to forgive that. I hate them because they threw my cousin to the mutts and watched for two days as he suffered in agony! Just thinking about it makes me grip my hand into a fist tight enough to crush steel.

I only stop when the corporal peacekeeper starts speaking, causing rows of grunts like myself to look towards the front of the hovercraft, some even waking up. "Soldiers, in thirty minuets we are to land in district 8. When ordered, you are all to leave the hovercraft and report to the garrison base and await orders from your head peacekeeper. Do I make myself clear?"

The response was bellowed by every peacekeeper on board. "Sir,yes sir!"

I am going to be stationed in district 8. My first feeling is relief that I'm not being shipped off to district 12, where the coal is on time and the rations are late. I was worried of being sent to some backwoods pit at the horizon of civilization. District 8 may not be one of the major population centers of Panem, but it is a safe place to be stationed. I hope district 8 isn't cold.


	2. Chapter 2:The bust

Chapter 2

There have been many things I was quick to notice about district 8. Seemingly endless rows of textile mills, neighborhoods of cramped and crowded apartment buildings of shoddy construct, and a general air of urban sprawl. As I quickly walk down a series of winding alleyways, I mentally go over the details of my first assignment. I am to patrol the streets as usual, but at 11:30 A.M. I am to meet three other peacekeepers at the specified location.

When I meet up with the others, we are to enter the specified apartment room to arrest a suspected insurgent. After hurrying through narrow alleys and damp hallways, I reach the location and meet the other three. After the other three give nods of approval, I pound on the door and give the warning. "We are the peacekeepers, open the door. We have a warrant for your arrest." No response. I knock a second time. Again, no response. I step aside as one of them use the butt of his semi-automatic to break down the door. We rush into the room and point our guns at the middle aged man and the young girl inside. They both cower in the corner. The man has dark black hair, torn clothes, a frail body,and a wrinkled face. The girl has similar hair and looks similar, only younger. She is probably his daughter, and around sixteen years old. Me and one other peacekeeper search the room while the rest watch the suspects.

After turning over furniture and looking around every nook and cranny, my search proves successful. Tied with frayed shoelace beneath a stained and creaking dining table, I uncover a leather flask and 23 dollars wrapped in musty paper. One quick sniff of the flask supports what was suspected. "I found morphling." One of the peacekeepers who was securing the suspects glared at the father and scorned. "Don't you know morphling is illegal?" Another peacekeeper taunted him while kicking over a partially flooded chamber pot. "You're in deep trouble now." The father stuttered out his slurred defense. "Pp-please sirs, I j-just sell som to feed my famly, I dn't ussse annnee." Now it was my turn. "You think anybody believes that? Every morphed-up cellar rat has some sorry excuse. Your coming with us." As I hand-cuffed the junker, his daughter began screaming frantically. "Please don't take him, he won't sell anymore. I promise, just don't take him. We walked out of the building while his daughter screamed and sobbed. I felt bad for her, but what else could I have done?

After turning in the prisoner and the evidence against him, I then head to the training facilities. They are very different from the ones tributes train in. For one thing, peacekeepers train for more than a few weeks. Peacekeepers are to train for four hours a day from 12:00 A.M. to 4:00 P.M. , using modern weapons meant for practicality rather than entertainment. A second difference is that the other training in here aren't competition, their comrades. When I reach the training facility, I head directly to the firing range. I can see and hear peacekeepers training with flamethrower guns, sniper rifles, and mounted machine guns in other parts of the facility. When I make my way to the firing range, I fire my semi-automatic at the target figures. The figures are dressed in grey camouflage jackets, with matching pants and solid grey field caps. I learned during the training years those uniforms were worn by District 13 soldiers, before their district fell. After two hours, I'm not missing my mark at all. Feeling satisfied in my marksmanship, I head over to one of the eighteen knife fighting trainers. After proving able to disarm him, I try throwing my knife. I'm able to hit my mark we'll enough. Next I try blocking or deflecting while he throws knifes. First using the butt of my gun, then using my own knife. I'm able to deflect most of them.

Now that practicing time is done, I head to the mess hall for dinner. After waiting in the serving line, my trey is filled and my legs lead me to a nearby table. The giant sitting across from me speaks. "Lysander, Good job busting that morphy today. The more off the streets, the better." I look up and smile while responding. "It was no big deal, Harod. You brought in three times as many, and stopped and escape." "None of the ones I brought in had anything worth knowing." Worth knowing? What could that mean? The younger, shakier man sitting next to him answered for me. "Didn't you hear? The morpher you brought on revealed where the location of black market trading grounds. The interrogators didn't take long, he cracked like an egg." Harod Pressed the point home. " An hour ago some peacekeepers were sent in for a shut-down, that's not nothing." "Well, I didn't know that. Thanks for sharing this with me" Jacobine, the young one, added in." Tell that to the morpher." I chuckled, then resumed eating. Harod, despite being considerably taller than a tree and strong enough to be made of iron, Harod mostly had his heart in the right place. Him congratulating me is even less of a surprise than us becoming friends the after knowing each other for eight days. Jacobine was really young for a peacekeeper, while most join at eighteen or nineteen, he joined when at age sixteen. His stubborn determination, his can-do mentality, and his bright optimism got him on my good side quickly. Jacobine cringes as he eats his corn based rations, I don't blame him. After two years of training, the food here still taste like it was never alive.


	3. Chapter 3:Warm welcome

Chapter 3

It is raining in district 8. The droplets of water drip off my patrolling the winding and filthy streets, I ball my hands into a tight grip to repress my desire to shiver. The streets bustle with people hurrying through to their jobs. Despite the street being crammed with people, there seems to be a bubble around me that nobody dares enter. The hum of machinery blares constantly in an arhythmic manner. My shift is almost over, I had better start heading in for lunch. As I reach the outer gate to the garrison base, I reach in my pocket for my identification card. I show it to the guard as before he can ask for it. He then nods to me and pushes the button that opens the door. I walk hurriedly to the mess hall for lunch, glad to be out of the rain. After waiting in the food line, I take my trey to the table. It's relieving to take off my helmet, even if only for a little bit. I had hardly eaten a few bites of the grub when the intercom sounded. "Attention all peacekeepers, the victor tour arrives in district 8. Expect to be on high alert." I am instantly washed over with an intense hatred, an unceasing fury.

Despite my attempts to hide and suppress my temper, my companions in arms seem to know how I really feel. They already heard the story. Montgomery, an intelligent and somewhat bookish peacekeeper in his late twenties, was first to speak. "Lysander, are you going to be well tomorrow?" I manage to force out an answer. "Yes, I'll be okey." Harod, also showing his concern tries to placate me. "There only gonna be here one day, then you'll never have to see her again." I say the next thing in a hushed tone, both to prevent eavesdropping and so I don't scream. "It's not just the tour, every hunger-games after this will have a recap on her pseudo-love, every year I'll be reminded. Reminded of how she tortured my cousin to death." Montgomery added in. "It's too bad the Capitol didn't just let her off herself." Harod and Jerobrine muttered in agreement.

That night while attempting to sleep, I kept remembering my visit home. My last conversation with Cato. "Lyes, how's being a boy in white?" I chuckle a little, then answer. "It's great. Training school is a lot of hard work, but I'm getting good grades and learning quite a bit. How's hunger games training?" " It's tough, pops is training me hard. But it will pay off when the I win the hunger games." "Well, good luck,write me when you win" "Don't worry, when you get assigned to a district, I'll visit you on my victory tour." This memory is especially painful, I cover my mouth with both hands so nobody hears me cry myself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4:Victory tour

When I roll down from the bunk-bed, making sure not to bang my head on the bunk above me, I am already in a foul mood. Peacekeepers get four hours of sleep, plus one hour of leaser before and after lights out. Most spend this time reading letters from family, sending letters to family, playing pinochle or poker with other peacekeepers,reading, or sleeping in. As I begin to methodically begin making my bed, An Avox pushes a cart full of envelopes. She softly slips one envelope in the hands of a sleeping peacekeeper two bunks down, then she pulls out another envelope and hands it up to Harod, who sleeps on the top bunk of the same bed. As she begins to walk by my bunk, I ask if I received any mail. She shakes her head apologetically and continues walking. I'm not sure why I'm disappointed, or why I even asked. My mother only sends me mail on once a month, and my dad passed three years ago. While I'm pulling out my personal belongings chest from under the bed, I can hear an excited yell from two bunks down. "Yay!She said yes!Anna said yes!" Without pausing or even turning around, I make my reply. "Well, Harod, I presume its official now?" Harod often talked about how much he loved Anna, and how much he hoped to marry her after his service ended. While active peacekeepers can't get married or have children, retired peacekeepers can and often do. He happily answers my redundant question."Damn right, its official." I mutter congratulations while pulling out what I was looking for, a well polished cavalry saber, forged of damascus steel . After pulling out some polish and a rag, I polish the sword, as I do every morning, to keep its condition good. I inherited this beauty from my grandfather, a peacekeeper during the dark days. Apparently, I wasn't the only person to hear Harod. The peacekeeper who sleeps in the bunk below Harod was startled by the first shout. "Keep it down, some of us are trying to 'll wake up the whole base." Harod called down to him. "Sorry if I woke you Aric, I'm just so happy that-" Aric cut him off abruptly, before rolling over to read his own letter. "Alright, just keep in to yourself." After glancing at his letter, he crumpled it up in a ball and threw it into the isle way in disgust. "At least your fiancée wasn't cheating." Despite not knowing Aric very well, I felt bad for him. I can at least remember that I'm not the only one with problems.

Do to cruel circumstances, I am now forced to stand guard during the victory speech of the people I hate. I convulse with rage with every word that leaves that harlots mouth. The mayor praises Katness and Peeta for killing two of his own. Compliments and honors are thrown upon the dream team. It makes me sick. If I had a grenade, they'd all be dead now. I need to keep my restraint, I must constantly remind myself that snapping will shame the Hardley family forever. I hate her. Cato should be up there, he was the true warrior, determined, ruthless, and and above all, courageous. He stuck by his allies and only killed those who he couldn't leave with. He deserved to win, not some lier who tugged the capitols heartstrings. The crowd is shouting the name Katness, but in vengeance and anger. I don't know who the anger is pointed at, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Luckily for us, but not for them, our guns are loaded.

After the iron doors of the justice building clamp shut, the crowd disperses, one by one. Over the corse two hours, all of them have left. The head peacekeeper orders that we guard the platform against a deserted district square for the rest of the day until the third meal. Through the shops, houses, tenants, and alleys, people watch us. They are making observations, of what I do not yet know. Eventually, a fresh group of peacekeepers comes to take our place and we all head to the base for the third meal.

I shove the corn-grub into my mouth as fast as it will fit. I'm exhausted. Not physically, mind you. My exhaustion is of a mental kind. I have no objection to killing when necessary, but the waiting is the worst. The calm before the storm makes many wish it would just start. Jacobine showed earnest interest in where I was. I explained every detail he asked for. That night during the second leisure hour, Jacobine was gambling with four others and winning most of them, Montgomery was reading on botany, and Harod was fast asleep. After maintaining my sword for forty minuets, I decided to write to my parents. In my letter, I included several details about district two, as well as basic information as to friends I made here. I made sure to include questions about back home, so she had to answer


	5. Chapter 5:Call to arms

It was several days since the victory tour came to district 8. My slumber is interrupted by the blare of the alarm, the lights all flickering on at once. As the piercing sound continues to bellow from all around, We all tear off our sleeping jumpsuits and pull up our uniforms as quickly as possible. After pulling on my sword before quickly heading to the armor lockers with the others, we pick up our machine guns and wait for orders. Our units commander is Nathaniel Burke, a physically and mentally strong veteran peacekeeper who was resented,respected, and revered in equal measures.

He barks out his orders the moment he arrives. "Okey men, We are to hold our position, and defend it until a fresh unit arrives. Lets give these rebels district two steel." We power marched to the destination, outside the base, there was fighting all around. There are several other peacekeeper units engaging the enemies. Hoards of ravenous rebels charge at the perimeter in waves, armed with tools, rocks, knives, and few stolen guns. After taking our position, we begin to defend, providing covering fire as two to three peacekeepers set up temporary fortifications around the streets that encircle the base. A wave of screeching rebels charge forth from behind alleyways and dumpsters and trash bins. I empty out lead and fire upon the chargers. Several fall dead before me. Snipers pick off rebel flag bearers and those who hide below window sills, flamethrower peacekeepers flash out plumes of brimstone as rebels scream and are enveloped, canisters of poisonous gas burn them from inside-out, yet the hoards continue to charge. Next to me, I hear Jacobrine cry "how do we fight against such hate?" as well as commander Burke replying "hate back son, hate back!". One group of rebels that appears out from behind one of the alleys shouts "For the Mockingjay!" before charging. They attack just as I and the peacekeeper next to me are reloading. The groups leader rushed in, faster than the others, and used a spear to stab my comrade through the belly. The others will be here soon, so I act quick. I pull my sword from the scabbard, and with one swing I lop his head clear off. My grandfather taught me how to use his sword, but there are too many. I impale three more and hold the rest at bay while a peacekeeper comes to guard the flank as I stealth my sword, which has felt blood for the first time in 75 years, and finish reloading. Another peacekeeper carries my fallen comrade away over her shoulder , his entrails dangling behind.

Charge after charge, wave after wave, hours of intense fighting doesn't even dent their numbers. I mow down rebels, being sure to aim at their torsos. One rebel gets close, I shoot her point blank. She still manages to throw an unhooked grenade, while screaming "For the Mockingjay!" It lands. The peacekeeper it landed closest to throws his body, stomach first, over the grenade. Before anyone else can even react, an explosion of gruesome red appears where he once was. Though one of the medics rushes over, he's clearly gone. I resume firing off bullets at the rebels, but the memory of his sacrifice haunts me. I never thought such bravery was real. I know that if I live to be a hundred, I will always feel ashamed that I could never learn the hero's name.

By the time night falls, a peacekeeper comes to relieve me of this shift. Me and the rest of my unit head to the bunks for sleep, falling asleep immediately. While the fighting continues outside and we are all concerned, we are twelve times as exhausted. Nobody even bothers to remove their uniforms. My once dashing and neat uniform of white is now coated and stained blood red, sweat grey, and dirt brown.


	6. Chapter 6:Discovery

Though I only rested for a few hours, I feel refreshed. No, not refreshed, just not depleted. I head right over the armory, for I didn't remove my armors or my uniform. Now my uniform's dried, the once while cloth now dark red, almost black. I reload my machine gun with the others and commander Burke gives us our orders. This time we are to head to the bases outermost walls, on the south side, and fight off rebels from the gun slits. We race past a line of rusted anti-hovercraft artillery, which isn't in use because only we have hovercrafts, and take out positions. Commander Burke tells us not to attack just yet. "Don't fire until the rebels come out to play. " we wait. I then hear a sound. A split-second after hearing in I shout out, "everybody take cover!" The wall is blasted open, and a section of it crumbles down.

Two are crushed to death instantly, and a third is pinned down by the leg. I shoot out of the hole before looking, using the stream of lead and fire to drive away rebels. I see four rebels,one with a rocket launcher over his shoulder and dresses in a solid grey helmet with a grey camouflage uniform. He looks just like the target dummies I shoot at during target practice. But how can that be? District 13 was destroyed during the dark days, yet one of its troops just tore down part of the wall. As my bullets rip through his chest, he falls to the ground. All is quiet. I motion for one of my comrades to cover me while I inspect. I step out, being sure to look in all directions. As I reach the bloodied body, I grab one of its hands and begin to pull it towards the safety of the wall. As I hear gun fire behind me, I pull up the body as a shield. My brother in arms fells the assailant as his bullets fill into the dead rebel. It was heavy to carry him, for his lifeless arms still gripped around the rocket launcher, and I didn't want to pull it from his cold, dead grip just yet.

Commander Burke and three others inspect the corpse. Despite all the blood, the district 13 insignia can still be seen on the back. Commander Burke takes off his helmet to be sure the visor isn't playing tricks on him, revealing his silver hair. Softly, so only those right next to him could hear, he let out, "Damn ". After a moments pause he says much louder, "the head peacekeeper will be in for one hell of a surprise when he sees this," the pointing at me he said, "peacekeeper Lysander Hardley, for taking the risk of recovering this crucial information, I hear by grant you the battlefield promotion of corporal peacekeeper. See to it that this wall is secured until I return with further orders." I hastily respond, "sir, yes sir!" before he could rethink this decision. I was promoted, and given command.

We hold the wall from all attackers. As rebels charge the hole, our machine guns mow them down. They aren't just mindlessly charging like before, they must be learning, as now they charge three groups at a time. Their clothes are torn from battle, some hold flags which portray a red Mockingjay holding an arrow. Though we haven't seen many more district 13 troops, or had any rocket launches, the rebels are armed better, with weapons that are almost as sophisticated as ours yet forged in a different style. Though most of them still charge with clubs and spears. I shoot out lead and fire, causing many rebels to fall dead at my feat. While I reload my machine gun, two rebels who survived from the charge attempted in vain to flee from my wrath. A rebel with his own machine gun doesn't approve of the two's cowardice. "Your running? Traitors!" He fires off an entire clip into their chest. Did he just call them traitors? He's the traitor, the,rebels are the traitors. The hypocrisy causes me so much anger, I pull a grenade off my clip and hurl it at the real traitor. The resulting explosion sends rubble flying in all directions.

We hold off against all attackers for hours. Nobody comes to relieve us, commander Burke hasn't even returned or signaled us as to how the peacekeeper high command felt about district 13's apparent return. I have six troops placed under my command: Aric, Jacobrine, Helena, Apollo, Pontus, and Dannings. The last four I this very day. The rebels calmed down, opting to take up a defensive position. I decide to wait for instructions, as we still have plenty of ammo and our visors adjust to night vision automatically. The sun dips low over the artificial horizon of buildings and smoke towers, I hope help comes.


	7. Chapter 7:Overrun

It is now midnight, the sun had long age gone down. While the sound of machine guns rattling in the distance is continuous, Dannings tinkers with the communicator, which is a hand held device used for communicating with superiors. My eyes scope the area for rebels, yet none appear. Still, I sense they aren't far away. Dannings excited cries catch my attention," Corporal, come quick! I have a signal!" I rush over to him as fast as my feet carry me. The voice of commander Burke flow unevenly through the device, his voice is panicked and exhausted, gunfire and screams bellow in the background." Corporal Lysander,the rebels breached the eastern side of the base, were being overrun ... I don't know how much longer we'll last. The rebels will flank you from within if you don't leave soon. You are to take the remainder of your outfit and the six of you are to evacuate the district through the west. We signaled the Capitol just before the communications building fell and they're sending in reinforcements. ... The justice building and the armory have already been lost. Once you escape ... join up with the reinforcements. This is my final order, ut proditorem nequaquam!" The signal ends after that. We're on our own.

My mind is racing. The base has fallen, how could this happen? For seventy five years, order and harmony were maintained. Why would the people rebel so suddenly? It must be that dammed Mockingjay! She's the cause of all this! I knew from the start she would bring only suffering and misery, this is her fault. Now I have the impossible task of leading this motley gang out of the fire, and even then we'll still be in the frying pan. But what about the last part of the message, commander Burke called out what had since the dark days been the battle cry of the peacekeepers, the call for resistance against traitor aggression. I must attempt, even if success seems unlikely.

The six others stare at me apprehensively, they await orders, they need someone to get them out of this. That will have to be me. "Soldiers, your orders are to pack any ammunitions that you'll need, then report back here. After that we are to make our way to the western edge of this district. Am I understood?" They responded eagerly. "Sir, yes sir!" Now for the finisher. "Then lets get to it. We're the boys in white, lets show these Rebs what we're made of" We gather as much ammo as we can carry from the ammo crates, as well as collecting an extra machine gun, a belt full of grenades, and two fully loaded pistols for each person. Finally, we lay anti-personnel mines around the courtyard, insuring the Rebs are slowed.

As we head out of the hole that was torn into the outer wall, we move slowly, scoping around for ambushers. As we turn the corner of one of the tenants, ten to twelve rebels open fire on us. Without a second to loose, we turn back and hide behind the safety of the buildings wall. One of the Rebs fired prematurity, warning us. Had he waited, we'd be dead. With caution, we return fire. After a few minutes, the skirmish ends with them all dead. We head back down the street, painfully slow. Learning our lesson, Helena looks around the next corner before we head down the district square. " Corporal, you might want to look and see this." I decide to, she moves out of the way so I can look. The district square is crowded with Rebs wielding guns. A rebel flag hangs over the smoldering and ransacked justice building. On the platform, gallows are erected, the mayor and his family hang from it's ropes. Upon closer inspection, it becomes clear that a four year old child is among the hung, and my blood boils with rage. This isn't the first time I've known of children coming to harm, and I wasn't any less furious. In my first week, I was tasked with executing a twenty something woman with a mounted flamethrower. Though I at first wondered if it was right, I read her the crime she was guilty of and all sympathy went up in flames, about a minute before she did. Her crime was that she didn't want any more children, so she drowned her six month old boy in a large puddle. I have no tolerance for baby drowners, so I roasted her alive. What she got was too good for her.

Since walking through the district square would be suicide, we decided to 'borrow' come clothes. We walk to a tenant that looks unguarded, and broke down the door. This time I gave no warning. We searched and dug around for clothes that we could wear over our dashing white armor. We needed disguises. After turning over furniture and looking around, we find a shelf of drawers. Inside are long leather coats and coarse carrying packs. We unload our ammo into the packs, as well as loading in our white, peacekeeper issued ammo packs. Finally, we put on the long coats, which cover out armors, and we put our helmets in the largest bag. While looking for other stuff we might need, Apollo knocks in a wall, revealing a hidden compartment inside. Upon closer inspection, the compartment forfeits a longbow, a quiver of arrows, and a bag of wild beets. After discussing what to do about this, and ruling out bringing the bows, we agree to bring the beets, but to break the arrows in half and burn it in the fireplace with the bow. Aric cuts the bows string for good measure, better to let the flames have the weapon than to let the enemy have it.

After leaving the tenant, we head down the district square. We try excruciatingly hard not to draw any attention to ourselves. We all head through the crowd of Rebs, while doing so, we can hear them discussing or boasting their battle successes, their courage, or Katness Everdeens exploits. It's probably 90% embellishment. Inch by inch, step by step, we make our way through the district 8 square. We finally reach the western edge and turn down a to our destination. As we're heading, I hear something down a side alley that we will soon walk by. After motioning the others to stop, I head down the alley discreetly, so as not to be seen. A sixteen year girl with long, knotted, black hear is being beset by two large men. They're wearing district 13 uniforms. As she cries out, her voice sounds familiar. "Please, I need to get going soon, please let me go." The two men have deep and nasty voices. "But Honey, then you'll miss all the fun." I don't like how he said that, the way he said fun hinted to malicious intent. The girl seemed scared."Please, no, let me go." I'm sure the two men aren't up to any good. "We're gonna have a good time." The older one, who seems about twenty eight, pushes her to the ground, climbs on top of her, and pushed her down so she couldn't escape. The younger one, who was about three years older than the girl, laughed cruelly. She became frantic,scheming madly. " NO, no, please don't! Please, No!" I could no longer control my fury, nor could I walk away. Reaching for my machine gun, I charged forward. I used the butt of the gun to crack the skull of the younger one, and then ripped the older one off his potential victim. I pressed the barrel of the gun into the mouth of the would-be rapist. There was a look of bewilderment in his eyes, for he had not yet grasped the recent events. Struggling not to scream, I whispered out. "May the hellfire have no mercy" I pulled the trigger.


	8. Chapter 8:An old friend

Blood covers my face, so much blood that I had to use my hands to wipe it off my face. I climb off the corpse and look at the girl to be sure I wasn't too late, it hits me. This is the girl whose father I arrested for morphling use during my second week here. By now the other six peacekeepers have come to check on me. None of them ask why I came down here, and since I didn't turn around to see them, I assume they picked up on what almost happened. The girl still looks scared, she shakes fearfully. I must pick my words they hurt you?" My voice has calmed down, so she shakes less. "No, they didn't ..." She tried to finish the sentence, but the necessary words escaped her. " I'm sorry you had to see that." I try to run my hands through my blond hair to clean out some more blood, its gotten everywhere. "N-no, I'm glad you came here." She really doesn't recognize me. Why should she, I was wearing my helmet and it obstructed her view of my face. Still, she would't be glad I came to district 8 if she knew I arrested her father. I extend my hand to help her up, at first hesitant, she reaches out with a shaking arm. I pull her to her feet, and wipe the tears from her face. Pontus, a tall man with dark skin, gestures for us to get going.

She seems to notice them for the first time. "Who are they?" I'm smart enough to know that giving away our position is a bad idea, so I lie. "These are my neighbors, we're heading west to one of the other districts." This is only a partial lie, as we are leaving district 8 through the west. She asks a question. "Can I come?" If what we said was true, I would have let her come. "Sorry, the trip will be too dangerous, plus we don't have enough spare supplies. anyway, why would you even want to leave?" She was persistent. "I don't have anything keeping me here. I want a fresh start, just like you." I'm about to tell her she can't come, but she cut me short. " Can I at least walk with you to the edge of the district? I owe you that much if nothing else." There are some benefits to this, it it will make our group appear less suspicious, and give me a chance to learn more about her. "Well, okey. I'll let you come with us as far as the district edge, but only if you tell me your name." This was a fair trade off. "My name is Annona. If you know my name, I should at least know what to call you." I could afford to tell the truth now. "you can call me Lyes."

While walking down the winding alleyways, Annona, tells us about herself. Her story is a sad one, and it hurts the six of us to hear it. Her father has always had a crippling addiction to morphling, often spending all their money on the morphers nectar. He was unable to hold a job, and forced Annona to take tesserae up to her neck just to survive. After Annona's father tried pimping out her mother to the morphling brewer, she left him. He often beat the two of them and survival was a constant struggle. The teachers at the school must have noticed her black eyes and twisted arms, because a few months ago four peacekeepers came into her tenant room and arrested him. Even though her father scared her, she still was upset that he was taken away. When Annona's mother heard what happened, she came back and took care of her for a few months before succumbing to the pox and dying, just a few days before the revolt.

Then I asked. "And what did you think of the revolt?" Her response isn't what I expected. I expected her to fully support the revolt. " They're just gonna cause more problems then they solve. When this is over, the Capitol is probably going to do something crueler than the hunger games." Then in a hushed tone, " I don't think we should talk about this, anyone deemed a counter revolutionary is lynched." I feel that she has reason enough to disapprove of the revolt, seeing as what two Rebs would have done to her.

Our progress down the street is blocked by angry mob of about eighty, which surrounds someone. Some of them have guns, so there isn't anything that can be done for the unfortunate victim, we must find our way around. While doing so, screams and shouts can be heard from within, silenced only by the blood-curdling sound of a skull popping. Despite filling a hellish combination of anger and sickness, I must keep moving. We sneak past the crowd and, after distancing ourselves from them, run until they're out of sight. We round three corners just to be sure.

It is getting dark now. The sun dropped low, floating halfway above the skyline. Annona speaks now. "It's getting dark, we'll have to find somewhere to rest soon." Apollo was in agreement. "We don't want to be out here come nightfall." To myself, I worry for how much time we have until the reinforcing peacekeepers come, but I internally conclude that we have a few more days. We head to an unused house in the victors village, after talking with some, it's safe to conclude that the Rebs murdered all Victors who weren't as radical as them. A makeshift gallows with seven hung Victors, as well as a self-appointed crier ranting to huddled onlookers of how the hung deserved their fate for being counter revolutionaries, supports this theory. We head to the westernmost mansion, a whitewashed marble monstrosity, which I doubt has ever been used since its construction. We huddle around the fire place as a small flame attempts to lick the platinum bars surrounding it. Helena takes the watch for the first half of the night, and Pontus agrees to take the second. We lay our backpacks aside, against the wall. Annona smiles at me as I drift off into sleep. Her dark blue eyes looking into my light green ones. The stress on her face from when I first met her isn't present. She whispers one word before I fall asleep. "Thank-you."


	9. Chapter 9:Escape

Sleep was not a pleasant thing. Dreary visions of death and terror race through my mind. Visions of a peacekeeper throwing his body over a grenade to save his comrades, of another peacekeeper being impaled with a spear that pulls his intestines out of him, of the mayors four year old grandson being hung from a noose, of two district 13 soldiers violating the womanhood of a sixteen year old girl, of Cato being ripped apart by wolffish-monsters while two district twelve teens watch in silence for two days.

As Pontus shakes me awake, my eyes snap open. I'm covered in sweat, so much sweat that my uniform must be filthy. This causes Annona to begin to wake up, as she was sleeping near me. She looks so peaceful, so young. No, that's not the word, I'm only four years older than her if she's as old as she looks, so the age difference isn't the factor. I doubt that its just her being innocent. Had I not intervened on her behalf, she would most defiantly have been violated, and maybe even murdered. Perhaps it's because I grew up at the age of eighteen, spending two years training to be a peacekeeper like my grandfather.

We head into the kitchen to cook breakfast, Jacobine carrying the hunters sack of wild beets. As we sit around the table, I me and Annona converse some more. She starts by asking a question. "So tell me, how old are you?" I give an honest answer. "I'm twenty years of age as of five weeks ago. And you?" She answers directly. "I'll turn eighteen in two months." Now that's a surprise. Annona defiantly looks two years younger than she really is, unless she's lying. "No really, how old are you?" She wasn't, her face doesn't hide anything. "No really, I'm almost eighteen." I ask the obvious question. "Okey, then when is your birthday?" She's about to answer, but we are interrupted by Jacobine. He comes in with and lays a plate of boiled beets on the table. "Breakfast is ready."

After downing our breakfast, which tasted extremely sweet compared to the standard peacekeeper diet, we put on our backpacks and head out. The streets of the victors village are filled with Rebs who patrol the area, mobs who seek out neutral or loyalist citizens to lynch, and packs of rats that scurry back and forth without cleaners to clear them out. We reach the entrance to the victors village and head back around the outside. The rest of the district has the same situation, with people hung from street lamps, signs around their necks with the words 'Counter Revolutionary' written upon them. Some of the hung are as young as two or as old as ninety, some are hung around the feet and have dark red faces. Some are just tied to the street lamps and filled with bullet holes or missing heads. Occasionally we can see a fist fight, or a gun duel, right in the streets. Windows have Mockingjay banners hanging off the frame, buildings miss chunks or smolder or have outright reach the fence, which still flickers on and off. Unfortunately, its surrounded by district 13 troops. There are several, so we can't just kill them. We see someone sneak over to the fence, climb over, and fall on the outside, before the district 13 troops open fire on him. The escaper is filled with lead and falls to the ground. There must be a way out. We spend three hours looking for some help around every nearby corner, all while remaining hidden from the district 13 Rebs. Eventually, we find it. Dennings leads us to an overturned armored car, which still works based on the fact that the headlights are still on. We spend thirty more minutes scoring the surrounding buildings for rope or wire. After finding an abandoned textile mill, we spend an hour tying the threads into ropes. Once we have enough, we tie it to the right side of the bottom, which is turned on its side. We all pull and the vehicle is back on its wheels. Our efforts payed off when the ignition started.

The armored car is pushed into position, to save fuel. The district 13 Rebs begin to notice, so Aric clambers into the metal beast, and starts driving. We run after him as he picks up speed. The Rebs at first shoot at the armored car, but after seeing the futility of this, they jump out of the way. The armored car rams into the fence, bringing out a chunk of it, causing electric volts to burst out, and continues to drive off. Aric jumps out and rolls off the damage while the speeding, and now vacant, armored car runs over a rock and flips upside down. We shoot the rebels as they try to get back into position. After that we run into the western woodlands.

The other peacekeepers run off into the woods, Aric looks back. "go with the others, I'll catch up with you after some business." He complies and disappears into the woods. I look at Annona, the young women whom I saved from rapacious rebels, who helped my band of brothers escape a fallen district, who opened up to me, but who's father I arrested. "I guess this is goodbye. It was good to know you." As I turn around, she unsurprisingly asks again. "Wait, take me with you." She'll probably hate me, but it must come out. There's no risk now. "Annona, I'm not who you think I am. I-" she cuts me off. "I know, you're a peacekeeper. I noticed your cloak was loose, so I went to tighten it and saw your armor. I 'don't care, you showed more kindness to me than any of my so called 'liberators' ever did." If only there wasn't more to it than that, but there is. "It's not just that, I'm the peacekeeper who arrested your father." Her eyes widened, she looked shocked, my heart felt heavy. "I had to do it, but I'm sorry. I'm still glad I've known you." I continue to walk into the woods, I don't look back because it would be too painful, already a tear rolls down my cheek.

As I walk through the first trees,dejected, I hear running behind me. I keep walking into the woods, I still hear running. I expect it to grow more distant, it grows less distant. I then hear shouting, I turn around. "Lyes, wait. Please don't go." The least likely person runs towards me, and stops a few steps away from me. Annona breathes in for a few minuets, then continues. "Please don't go without me, I don't want to be left there." I ask. "You still want to come with me?" Her response. "Yes, I want to come with you. But more than that, I want to be with you." I've never been so happy,relieved, and high spirited as I am at this moment, and I know that in my lifetime, I will never be so happy, relieved and high spirited as I am today.


	10. Chapter 10:Randevu

I have a spring in every step. As we trot through the woods to catch up to the other six, I feel a deep sense of bliss. Annona chose to stay with me, even after my confession. Truth be told, I've grown fond of her, despite the short time we've known each other. I confess I've never felt this way before, so I'm not entirely sure what it is. As we pick up the pace and start running, we reach the others in about an hour. They're standing together, and they appear as though there've been waiting for me. Their cloaks are no longer on, instead they wear the peacekeeper uniforms that are stained with rebel blood. As I approach them, none of them ask why Annona came with me. I suspect they either picked up the clues or won't question a superior. I take off the heave cloak and let it fall into the pile where the others placed there's. Now that the reinforcements will recognize us, we continue heading west. After an hour, something starts letting out a buzzing noise. Dennings takes out his communicator and activates it. An authoritative voice gives us our orders.

"Peacekeepers, good job on escaping the rebels. We have come to retake district 8,you are to meet us at ten miles northwest of your current position. There, you'll await further orders. Do I make myself clear?" Our response. "Sir, yes sir." The transmission ends after that. Helena looks up at the suns position, then points that direction and says. "That way, lets go." We head out.

After walking for ten miles, we meet up with one of the reinforcing armies. Because of our courageous escape from district 8, we are greeted as heroes. We are given new uniforms and new armor, as well as machine guns that shoot farther and pistols that pack a worse punch. We are given a meal that taste only slightly different from normal rations, yet fulfill all energy needs for the next two days. Soon we'll do battle with the rebels. But for now comes the hard part, a peacekeeper walks up to me and Annona, who is helping me tighten my boots. The peacekeeper than speaks. "Corporal Lysander, I have orders to see her out of here. Because of her role in aiding your escape, she will be taken to district 2 and placed under the protective care of one of its citizens, as well as granted regular food rations." He makes an attempts to grab Annona's arm, rightfully thinking she wouldn't come willingly. "Please don't let them take me." As much as I want her to stay, I know its not safe. "You can't stay here, its too dangerous." She starts to cry. "Please." I try to comfort her. "Don't worry, I promise I'll send you a letter every opportunity I get, and if you want you can send me letters as well." The peacekeeper, sensing a way to make this easier suggests something. " Corporal, if you would like, you may send a request as to whom she will be placed in the care of." This is good, as now I can be sure she'll be taken care or. "Okey, I request that she be placed under the care of my mother." Annona seems less upset. I stand up and hug her, and after a moment let go. I see her walking away, probably to a hovercraft that will take her to my home. Will I ever see her again?


	11. Chapter 11:The counter assault

This is it, this is the day we've all been waiting for. The assault on district, I go over our assault plan in my head. The force I'm stationed in, as well as two other forces, are to attack from three directions. We are to secure the essential locations while hovercraft s provide covering fire and strategic total, we number in the thousands. Our guns are loaded, our knives are sharpened, and our hearts are void of fear. Beyond this clearing is the enemy.

We attack with full force, charging through holes blown into the fencing with grenades. Though the rebel guards fight back with their own machine guns, we make quick work of them, cutting all down with machine guns. The armored battle vehicle, or ABV for short, drives down the streets, as those inside either gun down Rebs, of exit and fight on foot. After I leave the ABV, use my machine gun to guard an alley from which forty Rebs are trying to surprise attack the ABV from behind. They fall at my feet, their weapons dropping from their hands. From the rooftops, Rebs who attempt to counter-attack are gunned down by hovercrafts. We have to fight the Rebs street by street, building by building, room by room. As I and eight other peacekeepers march down the street, Rebs jump out and attack out of every corner. One charges out from behind a dumpster, clad in a vest of grenades. He shouts "Long live the Mockingjay!" Before pulling the vests string. The explosion kills twelve nearby peacekeepers. Three Rebs pop out from the windows of a tenant and open fire, felling a peacekeeper behind me. After taking cover within the door sill of the tenant building, I kick down the door. I go room to room, opening fire on every Rebel sniper in site. Some, turn around to a shower of bullets, some collapse and fall out the window. Once this building is secure, I go down to join the third unit of peacekeepers, for the first one already moved on. Fighting and death surround. Down an alley I can see the back of a peacekeeper engaged in a battle while brandishing a flamethrower. Before anyone can react, a rebel charges out from the shadows and stabs the peacekeepers fuel tank, the resulting explosion killed them both and made the alley an impassible inferno.

We fight hard, working hours for every inch. The Rebs have made a blockade of overturned cars, which they fire from. In order to get through, we have to wait for the flamethrowers. We shoot back for for a long time, but there are too many. The flamethrower peacekeepers arrive, and burn the blockade into a molted mess of metal and blood as Rebs are roasted alive within. Once that's takes care of, we hurl grenades to the other side for good measures, and proceed to go around it via one of the side alleys. Rebs push over piles of bricks or collected rubble, we sprint through to the other side, only a few of us make it.

Behind us we hear explosions upon the rooftops, apparently air support noticed them too. With my sword, I slice and dice the two Rebs waiting on the other side. I stealth my sword and we continue moving. Before us is the back of the justice building, around which Rebs fight off peacekeepers and district 13 hovercrafts dogfight with peacekeeper hovercrafts. I look to the two other peacekeepers who made it out with me, they came to the same conclusion I did. We must have sneaked past the traitors, and got behind their position. "Let's give the traitors a nasty surprise!" The other two nod agreements. We sleuth up to the Rebs who guard the back. Once we're close, we open fire. The look of surprise on the rebels faces quickly changes to a look of horror as the bullets pierce their bodies. We smash down the back door and charge in. Rebs swarm around us, but our bullets kill most of them and force others to flee. We don't spare those who flee because they'll alert the others. After securing the back hall, we enter the goodbye room for female tributes and find two dead peacekeepers on the floor, five lined up against the wall blindfolded, and a district 13 soldier holding a gun to one of them. I grip his shoulders from behind and throw him to the ground. I then kick away his pistol and finish him off with my machine gun. The other two untie the captive peacekeepers and we hand them our pistols and the pistol of the dead rebel. We continually gun down Rebs in each room of this labyrinth, giving a shotgun to the fifth freed peacekeeper and taking the banner of Panem from the mayors office. Finally, we climb the stairwell, Rebs chasing close behind because somehow the alarm was signaled. We reach the top tower, and roll a grenade down the stairwell, slaying the rebels who peruse us. After reaching the flagpole. While one of the others holds down the door, and three others use the sniper rifles from the Rebs we killed, I pull down the Mockingjay flag and raise the banner of Panem. The peacekeepers on the ground see this, and fight with renewed vigor. A hovercraft pulls up next to the tower, the door opens. Inside a peacekeeper waves for us to come in. I enter with four others, while three stay behind to be sure the Rebs don't take the tower back.

While the hovercraft flies over the battlefield, the co pilot is stupefied. "How in all the hellfires did you pull that off? I've never seen anything so foolhardy!" He lands long enough for us to regroup with the peacekeepers on the ground. We move into position, firing at the rebel line of defense. My stunt must have disheartened them, because after an hour of fighting they surrender. We some of the peacekeepers hold the prisoners at gunpoint, while the rest of us head over to the peacekeepers base. The traitors don't hold up long, as not only do we know every shape of the bases design, but word of the justice buildings recapture must have gotten to them. We clear out hallways, killing anyone with a weapon. By the days end, the peacekeepers base was recaptured.

We fight our way through the district, moving down Rebs constantly. We attack the granary, securing it by killing all rebels inside. However, the rebels doused the whole building with fuel, we fell into a trap. A fire in one corner rushes across the whole building, engulfing it in flames. As it rages, smoke and falling debris falls around us, we rush across the building to the south exit. As we dodge rubble, fire, and collapsing debris, we eventually make it to the exit. The door is locked! How are we going to escape. On the other side, I hear taunting. "Hahaha, Your gonna get it now." I hear taunting in a different voice as well. "What's wrong peacekeeper, don't like a little heat?" Is this it, am I going to be tortured to death? Like Cato? No. This time, a Hardley is going to survive. After ramming myself against the door repeatedly, I try shooting the bolts that hold it. The door gives way, collapsing outward, crushing a rebel beneath it. I shoot down the Rebs who waited to ambush survivors, and twenty eight peacekeepers rush out of the inferno. Of the one hundred and fifty peacekeepers who went in to secure the titanic storehouse of an entire districts food supply, only twenty eight escape.

It's nearly been two days of fighting, two days of dying, two days of killing. Then it ended. As I stand in position in the district square, surrounded by maybe a thousand of my comrades, the new head peacekeeper, Hades Thread, gives an announcement. "Soldiers, today you have done your duty in the rank and file, and made your nation proud. Your efforts paid off, the rebellion of district 8 has been crushed. The last Rebs waved the flag of surrender." As he left, cheering erupted from the ranks, district 8 had been recaptured.


	12. Chapter 12: First victory

We were so glad it finally ended, peacekeepers were laughing and clapping from among the ranks. Everybody must be drunk with happiness, because for some reason they started singing the battle cry of the peacekeepers*. I was so happy, I joined in myself. The song was learned by every child in district 2 when they learned about the dark days, the some of the lines were changed to fit circumstances,the song went like this.

Yes, we'll rally round the flag, boys,

We'll rally once again,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers,

We shall rally from the hillside,

The mountains, and the plains,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

Boys in white, forever,

Hurrah! boys, hurrah!

Down with the Mockingjay,

The traitors shall be slayed;

While we rally round the flag, boys,

Rally once again,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

We are following the path of our fore-fathers

Seventy five years before,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers;

And we'll fill our vacant ranks with

A million brave men more,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

Boys in white, forever,

Hurrah! boys, hurrah!

Down with the Mockingjay,

The traitors shall be slayed;

While we rally round the flag, boys,

Rally once again,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

Our brothers have laid their lives down

on the bloody battle field,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers,  
Our motto is resistance -

"To the traitors never yield!"

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

Boys in white, forever,

Hurrah! boys, hurrah!

Down with the Mockingjay,

The traitors shall be slayed;

While we rally round the flag, boys,

Rally once again,

Shouting the battle cry of the Peacekeepers.

After the initial celebrations, of which only peacekeepers took part, we were given the day off to rest, while even more reinforcements enforce the lockdown. I step into the the communal mist rinse room of the peacekeepers base. A mist rinse is a special shower in which a special mixture of mist and cleansing vapor clean off the skin and clothes, because of this, peacekeepers don't have to undress for these. They only take two minuets, but removing the armaments can take between ten minuets to half an hour. I lie down in my bunk bed, which is still the same one, and begin to write to Annona. In this letter, I described the thrill of the fight, the horrors of battle, and the close calls. I also describe my flag raising, and our victory. For the second part of the letter, I ask about how she's adapting to district 2, I ask how she likes my mother, and I ask that she reply.

Then I'm approached by Harod. "Harod, Its good to see your still breathing." He laughed as I said this. "Your not the only one who gave Johnny Reb the slip, its good to see you." I decide to talk with him more. "How'd you do it?" His response isn't climatic. "Me and Montgomery were patrolling the outside of the fence when the Rebs started killing. " I smile while speaking. "So I take it Montgomery also survived?" His response. "Why yes. In fact, he was promoted to logistics corporal and relocated to district 4." As we talk more I tell him about my daring escape from a rebel run district, about the cruelty the Rebs showed, about my promotion to corporal, and about Annona. He seemed interested in the latter. "Lyes, I'm glad you found a woman in your live." This comes as a surprise. "What do you mean?" He chuckles a little and elaborates. "I heard how you talk about her, how your face lights up when you describe her. I don't have to be a genius to know your more than just friends." I'll be the first to admit that I've never been in love before, but I'm not sure I'm going to admit so. "Nothing happened. After what she almost went through, it would be wrong to." Harod smiled bemusedly. "Get your mind outside of the gutter, I wasn't talking about that. I was only suggesting you felt something for her. " I change the subject, and we talk about other events, such as battlefield feats, family back home, and the upcoming quarter quill.

I practice with my grandfathers sword, as well as maintaining and cleaning it. I still swell with pride when I wield this sword. It evokes memories of listening to him tell stories of how he used this same sword during cavalry charges against Rebs, of how he helped win the war. It also invokes memories of him teaching me and Cato how to use the sword, both atop a horse and upon the ground. Since there is no sword practicing area in the training facility, I must practice in the courtyard. All around the district,droves of Avox clean up the base, the justice building, the communications center, and the victors village. The rest of the district is left in ruins and littered with rebel corpses, which are only pushed to the side of the streets. The bodies of fallen peacekeepers were collected, embalmed, and sent back to district 2 for their respective families. Cleaning the district itself won't even begin until after lockdown. It's getting around time for time for lights out, and I don't want to be late. Anyone convicted of AVOL is flogged. The floggings for peacekeepers have special whips that don't leave scare, but hurt worse. After rushing to the locker room, I change into my sleeping jumpsuit and pack my uniform and armor into my locker, then I leave the locker room and prepare for sleep. As I lock my sword into my storage chest, which was dented around the lock area but not raided, I then get ready for sleep. I close my eyes and in a minute I Slip into a slumber.

* * *

**Authors note: The song used in this chapter is modeled after the song 'Battle cry of freedom' which was sung during the american civil. I do not own this song, nor do I own the Hunger Games. However, I make no money off these stories, so its probably legal. **


	13. Chapter 13:Transfer

Within the confines of my slumbering mind, I see the bloody fighting against screeching zealot hoards, I see a valiant peacekeeper throw his body over a grenade to save his comrades, I see a twenty year old woman holding her infant son face first into a puddle, I see a rebel tying a noose around a four year old child's neck to get back at the child's grandfather. I see loyalists and neutrals, children and babies and pregnant women hung, so many hanging and swaying corpses! I see a rapacious soldier clad in a grey uniform, crouched atop a young women, tearing her clothes and viciously violating her.

Bolting upright, the nightmare ends. Sweat runs from my brow like a foset. My lungs pump life giving oxygen down my throat and through my veins. I lean over look at the clock on the wall, The first leisure hour starts in the minuets. I place my hands over my face and fall backwards into the bed.

I decide to sleep in for part of the leisure hour. I close my eyes and rest for a moment. When an Avox pushing a mail cart trudges past, I cover my ears. It's most likely a different Avox than before the revolt, because it sounds different. After snoozing for thirty minuets, I decide to get up. I head over to one of the recreation tables and join a pinochle game, in a nearby corner an Avox mops up some dried blood. After winning the second round, it comes time for changing.

Our unit, about five hundred of us, stand in position, waiting as commander O'Connell gives orders. "Peacekeepers, do to the belief that you are needed elsewhere in Panem. In two weeks time, you will be sent home for a ten days visitation period. Afterwards, you will be sent to a district that will be disclosed upon arrival at said district. Do I make myself clear?" We bellow. "Sir, yes sir!" Commander O'Connell makes one last remark. That is all, return to your regular schedule until your day of relocation." I'm being relocated, I wonder which district I'll be sent to.

I go on with the rest of the day as usual. I patrol the streets for anyone violating the lockdown, and nobody does. In the district square, captured rebels and rebel leaders are executed by firing squad every hour on the hour. The rain clouds let out a light drizzle, since my uniform is watertight, I don't need an umbrella. All around, rats feast upon rebel corpses unmolested, flies blanket them during this time, I'm thankful my helmet blocks out sound. The day ends uneventfully, I head back to the base for an hour of leisure before sleep. When I get there, I found that Annona sent a letter to me in response to the one I sent her. In it she explained her shock at the food and living conditions of district 2, as well as news that she got along with my mother, and she couldn't wait to see me again. I sent a letter in response to hers, stating that I would be relocated to another district soon, but would get to spend ten days with her. I also stated that I'm glad she got along with my mother, and I'm glad she likes district 2. When I do to the realm of dreams, Annona comes to mind. Her bright smile, her brilliant eyes of blue, and her form nestled next to mine in a loving embrace. In the morning, I wonder about my dream and what it means A about my feelings.


	14. Chapter 14:A visit home

The time back home went by so fast, too fast. I spent most of it showing Annona my home district, a pristine, spacious mountain region plentiful in food, wildlife, and other good things of life.

When I first stepped off the hovercraft I deeply inhaled the fresh, cool mountain air. It was a relief for my lungs after the smoggy and suffocating ask soaked air of district 8. District 2 is also less crowded, the only largely populated part of the district is the area directly surrounding the district square, and that's more of a large town, as the justice building is the only structure that rises more than three stories. That is, unless you count the fortress within Mount Acropolis, built by the NORAD, a chivalrous order founded two thousand years before panem was even founded, and discovered by miners two months before the dark days begun. This ancient fortress was expanded hold the communications center, the peacekeepers base, the armory, living spaces for about half the peacekeeper army, docking bays for most of the hovercraft fleet, a training wing where young peacekeepers shape and mold their skills, and fallout bunkers with enough supplies and room to hold the districts entire population for three years. An impressive feat, considering the total population of district 2 is four million people, spread over villages, towns, and hamlets.

Even better than that is the wilderness. District 2 is the only one that permits hunting within the district fences, which is a lot considering that the villages and towns within the district are like pockets within a blanket of pine and redwood, connected only by roads and pathways. Despite the long distances of woods between, it takes barley an hour to get from place to place. The reason being the well oiled public transportation, though only public in that anyone can ride the horse and carts that pull eight to fourteen people from point A to point B. These are run by provide individuals, often charging two dollars per ride. During such trips, one gets a serene viewed of the forests, meadows, and glades.

During my home, I talked with Annona often, I learned how she was liking district 2 on the way to a visit to Aric in his hamlet. It was less than an hour and a half from my village, sub-district 22, or small boulder. During the peaceful ride on my personal horse and cart, I learned a little about how she felt about my district. "So, how have you liked my home. By the look of you, its done you good." It was true, she is no longer dressed in torn clothing, but rather wears a pale blue dress. Nor is she as thin or sickly as when we first met,but she appeared healthy and, I'll admit, cute. Though I fought as much long before today. "District 2 is wonderful, the woods are beautiful and were allowed to go in them, its just ... why is district 2 so great while the rest of Panem is poor?" This was an odd question, it never occurred to me like that before. I just assumed that several reasons are responsible for that. The free food Carrier victors rake in year after year might be part of it, or the historical alliance to the Capitol, but I always assumed it was the abundance of natural resources in district 2. "I'm not really sure, I guess it's always been that way." She does not seem satisfied with my answer, so I try to change the conversation. " In your letter you mentioned that you hit it off with my mother." Annona no longer seems upset. " I was telling the truth, your mother is nice to me and treats me well. I can tell she's trying to fatten me up, with all the food she's cooking for me." I bet it seems like a lot to her, this is probably the first time she had a complete meal. Her father shouldn't have put his addiction before his own family. She continues, in a much more sober tone. "I haven't told her yet, I'm too worried about what she'll think." I know what Annona's talking about, how during the district 8 revolt, she was almost raped by two district 13 Rebs. My intervention is the only reason she's still a Virgin. The fact that anyone could even comprehend doing something so sadistic to someone so undeserving still sickens and bothers me. "Nobody will think any less of you, but you don't have to tell anyone your not comfortable Knowing. I'm the only other person who knows, and I won't say anything." She appeared relieved, the terrified look on her face passed. She rested her head on my shoulder, placing one hand across my back and the other across my chest. We sit in silence for the rest of the ride.

We eat lunch at an old oak picnic table outside Aric's house, a structure built of stone, brick, and concrete. It is a sunny day today. The wind blows softly, carrying warm air through Aric's hamlet of Shaded Pond, sub-district 24. We converse in between bites of our meal, sandwiches. "So ... how have you been doing?" My response. "Great. ... The weathers perfect, the suns shining, and I have two more days with my loved ones. How ... Are you doing?" I place my arm around Annona as I say this. Aric tears off a chunk of his bread and flicks it onto the ground, where a passing duckling waddles over and starts pecking at the white. "You know, been busy. I'm teaching my nephew Mark how to fish tomorrow. " The duck continues to nibble off crumbs from the bread. "Where do you fish? In the puddle?" Aric laughed a little. "It's only a pond in name. Maybe it was a hundred years ago, when this hamlet was founded, but today it's a lake. It even has its own tributary stream." I chuckle a little, he continues." My dad taught me to fish in that same lake, and my granddad taught him to swim up the stream a little." My gaze wanders to the duckling. I think of my father. The was a large man, always positive. There was very little that could wipe the smile from his face. He used to carry me over his shoulders when I was four. Then the fever struck our village when I was only six. Almost everybody got sick, and most were bed ridden for a little while. My whole family got sick, but he was the only one who didn't recover. The ducklings parent duct waddled up to its young to make sure its safe. Aric is still speaking. "It's too bad you didn't come here an hour age, Harod and his fiancée were here. " This is interesting. "You mean Anna, the preschool teacher?" Aric continued. "Yeah. They wanted to pay me a visit too. This village probably got more traffic today than in three years." I laugh at his joke.

When we head back to my village, the sun is setting and it will be midnight soon. When we reach Small Boulder, I can see a statue in the center of the village. The statue depicts three bronze peacekeepers, the first two wearing full armor and uniforms while wielding machine guns, the third brandishing a semi automatic machine gun in one hand and holding his helmet by the straps with the other. Though I can't see it at night, I know that under the statue is a plaque that reads: "There are none braver than those who give their lives in the line of duty." After we exit the cart, I tie up the horses and we head inside my house. It's designed similar to that of Aric's but its slightly larger. If only I could stay longer.


	15. Chapter 15:The costal district

Bullets rattle all around. I mow down hundreds of screeching Rebs who charge my position in a continuous wave. The sound of the bullets seems distant. One of my brothers in arms covers a grenade with his body to save us from the blast. A rebel drives a spear through another comrades stomach, I swing my sword and it removes the rebels head. I'm holding a machine guns barrel into the mouth of a rapacious district 13 officer, I let out a feral scream and pull the trigger, unloading bullets into his mouth, the blood spraying onto my face and obstructing my vision. I snap awake.

I sit up in my bunk bed in the base I'm stationed in. This time I'm on the top bunk, so I can sit up farther. I just arrived here today, after a hovercraft flight that seemed longer than it probably was. Annona was defiantly upset to see me go, probably more upset than my mother. Don't make a mistake, my mother was distressed to see me leave, she was worried to sickness when I had to fight in district 8. I bid farewell to them both, before going on the bus that will take me to the hovercraft docks. It was a warm sunny day, it never seems to rain on hard days. I don't feel any of the heat in this district, the bases air cooler keeps the temperature at a comfortable 37 degrees Celsius. Outside, the calm winds brushes mildly over the palm groves. District 4 is the fishing district, and as such is the only one in which people live near the coast. Though District 1 and district 2 both touch the coast, most settlements west of the Rocks, a large mountain range stretching across the continent from north to south, are homesteads, isolated cabins, and peacekeeper surveillance outposts. District 4 is one of the only three districts that embraces the hunger games by training in advance, as well as the third most prosperous district. As I turn over and attempt to continue sleeping on my stomach, I remember the first time I saw the southern sea, beyond which was endless ocean to the east and a continent of wildlings to the south.

As I patrol this district, I notice the people seeming to avoid me where ever I seem to move. It is as though I'm surrounded by the arena shield, everyone tries not to bump into me. I step through the dockyards, which are abandoned as the fishers won't return for another week, the octopus and squid hunters for another six months, the whalers and sealers for another ten months, and the offshore drillers for another year. The shrimpers, oyster farmers, pearl growers, seaweed farmers, and starfish millers all operate along the coast or two to five miles out to sea. The only boats still in harbor are driftwood rafts that stopped working long ago, and quarantined vessels that are forbidden from docking to prevent outbreaks of scurvy. The pelicans soar overhead while the western bound winds roll salty sea air all around. While I can only barely wisp it now, during the leisure breaks in the bases courtyard, I can inhale the salty sea's breath to my hearts content.

As I reach the end of the dock, I glance out to sea for a few minuets. Some clouds float over the horizon, light from the large lighthouse shines a light constantly out to the distance. The lighthouse is a colossal round brick tower built during the time of the North Americans. As I look out to an ocean, one that curls over the horizon seemingly forever, I can't help but wonder how the Lewis, Columbus, Magellan, and all the explores of antiquity felt for being the first to view upon similar lands. Perhaps they felt wonder at the mysteries of the natural world, perhaps they felt humbled by natural formations that easily dwarf the creations of humanity.

After the brief pause, I resume patrolling the district, scanning for anything suspicious. After making my way through the wooding shanties and squalor of the poor part of the district, through the stone houses of the fine merchant part of the district where tradesmen live and work, past the oceanfront mansions of victor village which is currently having another five mansions built to accommodate more victors, I reach the the base in time for second meal. The food is better here. Food producing districts serve part of their produce in addition to the grain mush, the industrial districts just serve the hyper-nutritious mush. My food tray holds a steaming bowl of muscle and clam soup, green and salty district 4 bread, a baked salmon, and a smaller bowl of the same mush all peacekeepers know and tolerate. I sit down in one of the eating tables. Unlike the rectangular tables of the mess hall of district 8, the ones here are round. Next to me sit quartermaster Montgomery to my left, peacekeeper Harod to my right, and Peacekeeper Jacobine sits to his right. Across from me sit peacekeeper Aric and peacekeeper Helena, who's helmet she took off and who's red hair hangs loosely over her shoulders.

I talk with my brothers-in-arms in between spoonfuls of broth and chewy chunks. "So ... how'd your first day go? ... Anyone see Apollo ... and Pontus and ... Dennings?" Aric and Jacobine exchange looks and Jacobine begins to speak. "Corporal Lysander, Apollo and Pontus were relocated to their homes in district 1, Dennings is still in the infirmary from mosquito fever." This surprises me. "Apollo and Pontus are from district 1? I thought only district 2 made peacekeepers. " Aric speaks up. "District 1 does not train peacekeepers, but After a reaping riot in district 1, the head peacekeeper of that district made an exception after seeing Pontus beat down other would-be tributes." Reaping riots are when careers fight over who gets to compete when many volunteer at once. Jacobine continues. "Apollo beat someone to death at a school boxing match, so he got the choice of being a peacekeeper or an Avox. I think he chose right." We all laugh at the last part. I then ask the second question. "I hope Dennings recovers soon." The others nod in agreement. Aric pulls off his helmet, revealing a light face and curly brown hair. He then wipes his hand across his head. "Phew! It sure is hot outside." Yes, it is. I still think district 4 will make a good place to stay for the next eighteen years.


	16. Chapter 16:Anger

As I fire off round after round against the familiar dummies, I can't help but wonder what happened to district 13. I know they had soldiers is the district 8 crisis, I saw the uniforms. I suppose they're being dealt with at this moment. I practice shooting a machine gun, hitting my mark most of the time. After feel satisfied with my marksmanship, I head over to the knife fighting station and practice fighting the trainer with my knife. After disarming him several times, I try again, this time only he has the knife. Despite getting disarmed a few times, I manage to overcome and show what I could do. Next I practice throwing my knife at targets. The blade lands into the dummies chest every time. The knife trainer has me then deflect knives he throws at me. First with my guns butt, then with another knife, finally with my bare hands. Very few of the knives find their mark in the protective training gear. Next I head over to the firing range, this time to practice with my pistol.

When I fire bullets into the dummies, the image of Cato's death run through my head. Cato running for his life while being chased my hideous mutts, Cato scuffling unto the metal cornucopia while Katniss shoots an arrow at his chest only for it to bounce off harmlessly. I shoot the dummy holding Peeta in a headlock, about to finish him and Katniss off and win the games. I shoot the dummy twice. He warns Katniss that killing him dooms them both. Declaring to all the world that he only wanted to serve his home district, that the Capitol used him, that he can only kill, yet that after winning the hunger games he will never have to kill again. I shoot the dummy three She shoots his arm, and Peeta pushes him to the mutts. He didn't hold him down for Katniss to finish him, he didn't stab him with his knife, he pushed him off to be torn asunder by the mutts. He fights on until the end, but mutts bite and tear at him, biting his arms, ripping his legs, blood rushing down his face. I shoot the dummy a fourth time. Katniss and Peeta sit and watch for twelve, maybe eighteen hours, doing nothing while Cato is eaten alive in agony. I shoot the dummy a fifth time. His screams are blood curdling. His face, once warm and full of laughter and joy is rendered unrecognizable as bits of him are shredded off by mutt teeth. For hours upon hours, Katniss and Peeta watch and do nothing, though the cameras show Cato's demise the whole time, I'm sure they enjoyed watching it unfold. I fire off at the dummy a sixth and seventh time.I can imagine their hands joining as a small smile spread across their faces to the sound of Cato's death. Finally, the dynamic duo send an arrow to wrap it up. The arrow pierces through through his blood soaked skull, his cold blue eyes become dole and lifeless. I grit my teeth, so as not to scream with fury, and empty the entire clip into the dummies head. I with it was Katniss.

I've been in this district for over a month now, probably longer. I've arrested thieves, helped raid black markets, and execukiller wife killer. Annona and I still write each other often, telling of our experiences. I still miss Cato. When I head to the mess hall, I enter the food line to receive my third meal of the day. As I reach the front, a man places the food upon my trey. The meal to the day is a plastic container of lobster meat, a bowl of anchovy soup, a loaf of district 4 bread, and a smaller bowl of mush. Despite the fact that lobster is only fed to the poorest in this district, compared to the mush its a fine bear stake like me and Cato use to grill back home. As I eat, Dennings rushes ofer to the table. "Lyes, Lyes! "I turn around. He seems to take a second to compose himself. "Ly- corporal Lysander, I have some news for you. The 75th hunger games are going to start tomorrow. " I grimace at the mention of the games, they reminded me of Cato's painful death. "Why are you telling me this, I have a calendar that's not broken? " Lyes speaks as I gulp in a forkful of lobster. " But this is the quarter quill, and that means- " My temper is low, I interrupt him with a sigh. " I don't care about who the district 12 whore is mentoring." Dennings persists. "That's the thing, this year tributes are being chosen from existing victors." What? The victors are being sent back? Once it dawns on me what it means will happen to Katness, a large grin spreads across my face. Now she's going to get it. After what she caused in district 8, there's no way the Capitol will let her get out of this. Unless its in a body bag."Well, its about time. I can't wait to see her get her just dues." I laugh happily, and after a little continue eating. "Come, sit down, this is a time for celebration. "


	17. Chapter 17:The quarter quills

The sun shined down on my dashing white uniform, causing it to glisten like white gold. I stood on the platform overlooking the district square, guarding the door to the justice square is crammed with victors who wait in line for their choosing. Age is not a factor this year, so I see elderly people within the lines. The outer rim of the square is filled with onlookers, nervously watching as their childhood heroes are sent off once more into the abyss. Most of the people in district 4 are blond with blue eyes, or have bronze hair and hazel eyes, like in district 2. Unlike district 2, there is not more than two redheads in sight and the people are not as strong appearing or as large as district 2. The district escort, dressed in outlandish and hedonistic clothes, pulls a name slip out of the raffle. "Annie Cresta" Across the crowd there are gasps of horror and shock in equal measures. A young women falls to her knees and begins sobbing uncontrollably. I learned enough about this district to know its district, and that this victors mental stability took a nosedive after the games. I feel immensely sorry for her, she probably thought it was over, but apparently not. Fortunately, an elderly women started pushing her way to the front while slurring out. "Wait! I volunteer as tribute." She then kneeled beside the bawling victor and began to tell her that the games are over for her. I don't know why I feel glad Annie was spared, I have no reason at all to care. After the elderly victor climbed the steps up to the platform, the escort announced her name to the slightly less horrified onlookers. It turns out the unlucky winner is Mags, one of the six victors who's birth predates the hunger games. Not that that's a bad thing, since what the elderly lack in strength they more than make up for in wisdom. In my home district, all youths are raised with an ingrained sense of respect for our elders. If someone is old, show them respect. If someone is an old victor, show them more respect, if they're a peacekeeper veteran, than respect them in your thoughts, an elderly peacekeeper who was previously a victor, you better do whatever they say. Former victors becoming peacekeepers is not an isolated occurrence, nor is it common. Then again, district 2 has the most victors by a wide margin.

The escort pulled a slip out of the male raffle and announced the name in her smug, aggravating Capitol voice. "Finnick Odair" The crowed was even more upset than they were about Annie being chosen. Annie herself began sobbing anew, she obviously cares for him. Everyone in district 4, the Capitol, and half of Panem knows Finnick. The victor who won with trident in hand, and since the age of 16 had numerous lovers from the Capitol, most of whom could afford to buy the entire district 12 if it was up for sale. He probably spends half his time in the Capitol and rumors abound of his exploits. I personally don't think these actions are appropriate or even wise, considering some of his friends-with-benefits are married to powerful people. In district 2 we have a sane on promiscuity, "don't stick your head in a tracker jacket nest."

After the ceremony was done, I finished up the rest of the day with patrols. When I got back to the base and fulfilled my other duties, it was the second leisure hour in the day. I sat down at one of the tables, and clicked a remote device that activates the television mounted on the wall. I watch the tribute reaping while two others sat down at the same table. In district one, Cashmere and Gloss are chosen, both decisive and viciously efficient career victors, both are physically powerful, both are sponsor magnets, both will give Katniss a run for her money. In my home district, the tribute line is long, Enobaria and Brutus are chosen. This is a pleasant surprise, as these two are the most likely to win. With Enobaria, who's survivalism to biting out a competitors throat, and Brutus, who's pure strength and stop-at-nothing mentality makes this all the more hazardous for Katniss. The fact that they mentored Cato and Clove respectively adds a deliciously poetic twist to the whole thing. It's too bad they can't both win. I don't pay attention to district 3. The others sitting at the table, as well as many near by, congratulate me when they see me guarding the district 4 reaping. After seven other districts, I see the district 12 reaping. The escort for the district flounders in the female raffle bin for the only name there. Then she says the name nobody's surprised by. After pulling out Haymitch's name, Peeta volunteers to take his place in a foolhardy and somewhat stupid move. Is he even aware that he and his 'love' aren't going to escape together. I'm still glad he made this blunder, as it means that if he does not kill Katniss, she'll still have to watch him die.


	18. Chapter 18:Developments

Before me stands a man sentenced to die, chained to the execution pole, an audience gathered around and watched nervously. The head peacekeeper of this district, DeLeroy Crassus, reads calmly. "Karl Larsen, you have been found guilty of conspiring against the Capitol and against the Armed Peacekeeper forces. Evidence against you includes a cache of makeshift explosives, a revolver pistol with four bullets, a length of light-able wire, and blueprints of the justice building with a red 'X' within the central building. Your accomplice, the mayors secretory, admitted to conspiring to help you under the threat of blackmail. He is already facing his own punishment. One charge of attempted murder will be added to the conviction for every person who would have been in the building. Your sentence is death by firing squad." The mans face became filled with anger and malice, and a little bit of fear. His voice is uneven, his hair is messy, and his eyes are wild. He shouted out. "You will all die, the vultures in the justice building deserve nothing less! There is no stopping the revolution! The Mockingjay will raise the Capitol to the ground." Crassus waved this off and gave the order. "Fire" I and four others shot at his chest, emptying our machine gun clips, causing him to fall limp. Blood gushed out of his mouth, his eyes were bloodshot and empty. A stream of blood fan out of the bullet holes in his chest and into a puddle on the ground. Crassus walked to the edge of the platform and addressed the crowd. "Let this be a warning to all of you, there is no escaping justice. If you ever decide to betray your mayor, or the Capitol, be warned that your days are numbered." Crassus was a firm and devoted peacekeeper, emerging from humble beginnings to rise to the rank of head peacekeeper of a district. He, like Romulus Thread, are trustworthy in that they would never think of treason. He and Romulus Thread also show mercy, though its not apparent. They whip and flog, but for crimes where others would have executed, they execute only on the second offense if nobody was hurt by the crime. These quantities are valuable and apparently rare.

There are stories of a head peacekeeper named Cray, sometimes told by superiors as a cautionary tale, sometimes told by comrades as intrigue. Cray was a loyal peacekeeper when he started his service, but he lost his way and district 12 dilapidated into a place of anarchy. The laws stopped being enforced, the coal shipments were getting more and more late, and Cray began to drink unlicensed illegal alcohol. This culminated in him breaking an serious taboo, he paid malnourished women and teenage girls to preform sex acts on him in exchange for food. He broke the strongest taboo of the peacekeepers; don't trade sex for continued living. Because of his greed for the teenage flesh, Cray was transferred to district 3 and demoted to a basic peacekeeper. Part of the conditions of his probation was that all his meals have libedo weakeners, that he spend a month in solitary confinement, and that he not be allowed to wear any armor for a year.

As I recall this, Romulus Thread is cleaning up Cray's mess, voluntarily taking up the task of turning district 12 back into a true district. The district was so corrupt that while flogging a poacher, a peacekeeper named Darius tried to frag him. District 12 still has traces of peacekeeper rule, so civilizing them shouldn't be impossible yet.

I continue the rest of my patrol, the people not only commuting out of my way, but also outright walking to avoid me while warning their friends,"It's one of them." I shrug it off, I'm use to it by now. I see a scrawny man sitting on the sidewalk, he appears to not have legs. I press a few dollars into his cupped hands, causing him to look up and give a toothy smile. He is missing several teeth. "Bless yer heart sirs." I nodded at him, hinting that it was no trouble at all. I reach down and wrap his grimy blanket around him better. It starts raining as I continue my patrol thought the district, passing by shanties and the rare tenant building, thought loading docks and the shops, though the beaches and over the cliff sides, through the shops and the merchant houses, and back to the base.

Back at the base, I drink down my oyster soup and corn mush, often pouring broth of it on the corn mush so its easier to eat. While I shove soup and mush, dipping the green fish shaped bread in the soup and gulping down water from the metal cup. Aric is sitting to my left, eating his meal slowly. To his left, Harod eats his meal, chewing each bite one at a time. Across the table, Jacobine forces down each bite of oyster soup and grimaces after each bite. I ask, "I take it you don't like the oysters?" He washes it down with water before answering. "No. It taste like salty mucus." Guess he must be eating a different soup, because oysters taste delicious. " I'll have to disagree with you there." Helena walked up to the table and sat down next to Jacobine. "What are you talking about." Harod tells her before I can. "Jacobine doesn't like the oysters." She looks over at him then back at the rest of us, then speaks. "Well, I do prefer the bread. But the food they serve never seems to taste as good as back home. " We all nod and utter our agreements . "Anna always could fix up a good meal. Say Jacobine, do you have a sweetheart back home?" Harold's question is valid, as he does not know very much about Jacobine. "No, not really. I've spent too much of my time training to be a peacekeeper. " Jacobine then looked over to Helena and asked, "How about yourself? I'll bet you have a special someone in your life, you look good enough." This was true, with her scarlet hair, hazel eyes and slender build, she was in no way ugly. However, she blushed at this, as though not expecting the question. I could tell, as peacekeepers take off their helmets when eating. " I don't really have much interest in that sort of thing." I choose not to say anything, because this is a bit too personal for my likings. Harod also senses the tense air. "I'm sure Jacobine meant no harm, your preferences aren't our responsibility." Helena corrected him. "Believe me, I'm its not like that, I just never seem to be in anything serious." Aric, who just finished his meal, spoke up. "Well, I for one think its smart of you not to waste your time. I'd rather not play roulette on weather my girl-back-home can control her 'needs'." After fighting our way out of and back into district 8, Aric and I became more acquainted with each other. I already know his story, of how his fiancée broke off their engagement via letter, and also cheated on him with every guy in his village while he was serving. Aric also knows my grudges.

As I watch the hunger games recap for the day during the second leisure hour, Aric and Dennings come to join me. Helena sleeps in the female sleeping section, however she said she would watch the games from there. While it is not unusual for women to join the peacekeepers, the gender ratio for the peacekeeper population it still not in synch with that of the total human population. Based on my knowledge, out of every ten peacekeepers there are two girls in white. However, its hard to distinguish due to the new suits of armor that cover the whole face. Right now, I wear my sleeping jumpsuit, as do the others. I watch the games impatiently, wanting to skip past the show off phase. They ride chariots down the Capitol main road. They are all wearing costumes that reflect their district, sort of. Finally the dynamic duo ride the rear, smoldering charcoal. I remember their fireball costumes from last year, my imagination conjures up an image of the fireballs in the arena burning them alive. I smile at the thought, the girl on fire dying by her own flames.


	19. Chapter 19: Interviews

A patrol down the streets as always, but today is a little different. An informant gave up the location of a black market, so I'm tasked with helping to raid it. I am to continue my usual schedule, then at 5:00 meet a group of other peacekeepers and arrest everyone present. As I approach a boardwalk, I climb the ladder to the bottom. There I meet eight other peacekeepers. "Corporal, what are your orders?" I explain the plan I was given. "Peacekeepers surround the perimeter of the structure, so none will escape. We're to enter through this entryway, while another group enters through the back door. Am I understood? " The others nod, showing they understand. One of them kicks down the door, and we rush in. It's abandoned. One of the other peacekeepers asks the obvious question. "Where is everyone?" There might still be evidence here. "Let's keep looking." As we and the other group meet in the middle, shooting erupts.

"Everyone down, its an ambush!" Those of us who aren't hit get down and return fire. The ambushers form behind the stalls are using old rifles, bows, stolen machine guns, or slings. One pops up from behind a stand, so I shoot at him and he falls back down, dead. Another tries to charge at me and stab me from behind, I hit him in the gut so hard he falls over and starts coughing up blood. Grenades would be foolish in closed quarters like this, so our guns will have to do. Shooting can be heard beyond the black market walls, so I assume some tried to escape. A peacekeeper next to me is knocked out by a well slung rock, so I shoot the slinger, causing blood to squirt from the bullet holes. A javelin flies past my head and finds the chest of a comrade, another fires back while I reload. One runs up to us, shouting: "For the Mockingjay!" Remembering district 8, I shoot his feet, causing him to fall forward and set off his explosive vest far enough away that the worst that happened to my comrades was a loss of footing and a hole torn into the structure. We gun down every last attacker, then some of the other peacekeepers carry the ambushers bodies into a pile, and line up the dead and injured peacekeepers in a row. After turning ofer stands and prying open chests, we find large amounts of contraband. Alcohol, Poached food, stolen fish, even morphling. I pull out my communicator and signal for a vehicle transport. Within thirty minuets, a peacekeeper water transport arrives at the water under the boardwalk. They load the evidence and the fallen comrades into the boat, then give us orders to torch the place. With the lighter fluid, we burn the structure, as well as the boardwalk. The boardwalk was unused anyway, so we let the whole thing go up in flames, a plum of smoke rising from it.

As I continue my patrol, the people seem to resent peacekeepers like me even more than usual, giving me dirty looks and the like. I'm glad when the day is finally over, when I can rest. I sit down at one of the tables in the male sleeping quarters. Jacobine and Montgomery are sitting at the table, playing a game of high-low-jacks. I approach them and ask if I may join. "Of corse Lyes, you don't need to ask. Did you know Montgomery got stationed here?" I obviously knew when I saw him, but I decide to have a little fun. "Really? He's here? I would never have known had you not told me. Where is he?" Then looking directly at Montgomery, "I won't know where he is unless you tell me." The other two laugh, Montgomery chuckling softly, Jacobine having a nice full laugh. "So Montgomery, how's being quarter master?" He smiled while answering my inquiry. "It's good, I get to manage the supply line of the district. I had to stay behind for a bit longer than the others, in order to make sure the peacekeepers had bullets and bread. You remember how the granary for the district was burned up?" Yes I remember, I was inside when the rebels trapped up. I remember being trapped inside while Rebs taunted me from outside, I'm still shocked that they destroyed their food supply in order to kill us. "So how's the textile district doing?" He shook his head disappointedly. "After the lockdown, there was a strategic bombing of a factory where the revolt started. A bunch of people were in the factory when it happened. Apart from that, they executed all the captured rebels." Remembering the mayors four year old grandson who was hung by the Rebs, I felt they brought this upon themselves. Jacobine must have agreed. "Serves them right, I say hang them. Don't stop until every raping and murdering rebel is wiped out." Those who heard Jacobine uttered agreements. Montgomery had this to say. "Jacobine already told me of your heroic escape and that you joined the counter assault, is he telling the truth?" I fill him in on all that I did in district 8, he seemed speechless, often asking questions and showing outward signs of amazement. Eventually it gets time to watch the tribute interviews.

Gloss, the district 1 male, thanks the Capitol for all the support given to him and his sister. He always was a true loyalist, often appearing in commercials for Capitol products or pull his findings with other victors to build public libraries and amphitheaters for his district, a common practice among career districts. Cashmere gave a heartfelt speech of how she and the other victors will be missed. This is somewhat true, as she and her brother are only two victors who their districts consider role models. Every child who grew up in the career districts, or the Capitol, has read the THE TWINS TALE, their story, by age five. Children base school projects after those two, Cashmere has been the most common girls name in district 1 since she won, Gloss has six children and fathers another child every year, people will definitely miss them. Representing my district, Enobaria explained that she had a good life and meaningful life, and isn't scared to return to the arena. She also encourages Caesar, and the viewers, to enjoy their life while they can. From what I gathered from sources, Enobaria often spent her post games time weapon training, taking care of family, and climbing district 2s many trees and mountains. She spent her life well. Brutus's interview was quite a bit like Cato's, both showed determination to survive, fight, kill, and win. It was abundantly clear that both were no-nonsense killing machines of pure strength and calculation. Brutus often spoke at peacekeeper training graduations, giving speeches on the importance of enduring the storm. In district 2, Brutus's name is synonymous with strength, courage, determination, and skill. The district 3 mechanic, Beetee, complained about the rules. Probably because an elderly schizophrenic does not stand a large chance against true victors, plus his electro trap won't work twice as everyone expects it. From the district where I'm stationed, Mags explains how after winning one of the early hunger games, in an arena so primitive it was secured by a metal wall rather than a force field, she watched every hunger games since, so she knows their inner workings. Finnick, someone Mags mentored and who is sort of like a surrogate son to her, gives his two cents next. He reads a poem to his 'One true love', which swoons every Capitol women (and some Capitol men) by the end. Frankly, I'm shocked Finnick doesn't have every STD by now. Next come several standard interviews, peppered with complaints that they have to fight again.

While the complaints amass to ' Snow could change this if he wanted to' the question is should he? The quarter quills were pre-designed by Marco Lorenzo, the first Head Gamemaker and the same visionary who created the genome codifier, the atomoner, and only perpetual motion generator to ever exist. The genome codifier allows for the splicing and rearranging of genes, without which mutts would never be more than a dream, not only the horrific arena fodder but also capitol pets and super-producing cattle. The atomoner allows for the transformation of graphite into diamonds, gravel into gold, and flint into jade, something only dreamt of for centuries. The perpetual motion device is what powers hovercrafts, only needing fuel to restart once stopped, something that baffles scientists even today. He made enough plans for the games to last a thousand years, with century quills and quarter-millennial year quills that are rumored to take place in space,at the bottom of the ocean, inside active volcanos, and in free fall. He not only envisioned the hunger games lasting a thousand more years, but that Panem would last ten thousand years at least. Despite no evidence whatsoever, rumors persist that the 1000th game, or 'the last hunger game', would include every district child 12-18, and that after that the districts would be forgiven. Though he planned out every game, he wanted the standard plans to just be suggestions as he wanted successor Head Gamemakers to think and dream after he was gone. Only a true innovator would think thousands of years past their time.

Finally the dynamic duo have their turn. Katniss manages to put on a show for the Capitol, even having her wedding dress transform into a Mockingjay outfit. I get angry every time I think about how she let mutts eat my cousin. I get sad and angry at the same time whenever I remember Cato and I hiking or hunting together. O, how I miss him. The last and the least has his turn. Peeta Mellark is interviewed, bantering on with Caesar. He gives a sob story about how they secretly got married, making his 'love' somehow less promiscuous, I don't by it. Then Peeta claims something that stomps out any last morsel of respect I may have ever had for the sorry two. He reveals that his 'wife' is pregnant, attempting to once again lie their way out of trouble again. The camera shows Katniss, and she doesn't look pregnant one bit, and lying about it is a new low. In fact, them telling the truth only makes it worse, as it means she intentionally got pregnant as sponsor bait, thus putting her child in harms way. If one month ago, I had been told I could have even less respect for the dynamic duo, I would have laughed in their face and assured him it was impossible. I was wrong.


	20. Chapter 20:Torture

Bullets rattle in the distance, a grenade flies before another peacekeeper. He throws himself over it, insuring that it kills him but not us. So much blood. A Reb stabs another comrade with a spear, with one fell swing my sword removes his head. The streets and squalor of district 8 give way to a large glade. I stand at the base of a large metal structure, Cato and two district twelve figures on top. The female looses an arrow into his hand, I scream out loudly yet sounding as an echo. He doesn't hear, the male grabs him by his shirt and, in one fluid motion, hurl him from the metal structure. Behemoth wolf-like beasts surround him, Cato tries fighting them off with fists, but one pulls him to the ground. His screams are like knives, tearing at me. Still holding my sword, I charge the beasts, "Hold on" I shout. But more beasts surround me. As I chop one down, ten more appear to fill its place, black sludge oozes from their cuts and stab wounds. The female grins as we suffer, Cato's screams filling my ears as they echo. The sun quickly zooms around the horizon, faster and faster, until it is a whitish yellow zoom across the sky. The female notches an arrow, takes aim, and fires. The shaft buries itself into Cato's bloodied and pale forehead, pushing him backward onto the ground. As the mutts rip his body to shreds, one pulls me face forward onto the ground. As I turn over, they rip me apart. My attempts to fight back are futile, as their dagger-like teeth tear off my sword arm. My peacekeeper uniform is torn open, flesh ripped from bone. Blood fills my vision, as though my eyes are flooding with it.

I quickly bolt upright from my sleep, saturated in sweat. I start to cry quietly, sure to keep this secret. The crying becomes so much that I have to block them out with my hand, biting the other to retain silence. O, how I miss Cato! Despite having an hour before wake up time, I feel as though sleep won't be an option. I slip down as quietly as possible, then I pull my personal possessions chest out from beneath the bottom bunk. I am able to do this quietly, for my training also included a stealth portion. The sleeping peacekeeper from the bottom bunk doesn't even change his rhythmic snoring. After clinking in the combo, my birth-year 7421, I slide it open. Inside are my sword in scabbard which I inherited from my grandfather, some of his medals, a dress uniform, some books, my morning kit which includes toothbrush, shaving tools, and pictures. One picture is a family photo, which his Cato and I when we were babies,as well as my grandfather, my parents, and my aunt and uncle. The second picture is one of Cato and I sword practicing. A third and fourth are of Cato and I rifle hunting or hiking. The fifth picture is of me and my mother during my last visit. Her light grey hair and frail wrinkled features hint at how well she took my fathers passing. The last three pictures are of Annona and I together. I finger through the books I have, trying to decide which one to read. The ones I brought from home include IN THE SADDLE, a book about Head-peacekeeper Trajan Lector who lead the boys in white during the dark days, THE LAST STAND OF THERMOPYLE, about an army of warriors from birth who defended their homeland, and CALL OF THE WILD, about a dog who adapts to life in the wilderness. From district 4 bookstores, I got THE SEA WOLF, about the rational and determined captain of a seal hunting ship. I decide not to read, rather opting to climb back unto my top bunk. I lock the chest, slide it beneath the bottom bunk, and climb to my top bunk where I close my eyes for an hour.

I stand outside an iron door in the bases interrogation wing, awaiting my next orders. Today, I've been placed on interrogation duty. Another peacekeeper walks up to me, we solute eachother, and he gives me my orders. "Corporal Lysander Hardley! You are to interrogate the suspected district 13 spy. Since you had experience with these types before, you are the most trustworthy man for the job. You are specifically to probe for leader names, compound locations, nuclear weaponry launch codes, assault plans, and any other information deemed crucial. The room is being monitored, but you have permission to extract information by any means needed. Once this is finished, you are to keep information obtained secret, failure to do so will be punished by death. That is all." He types something into the lock, and the metal door slides open. Once I step in, it closes behind me.

My new helmet has a night vision visor, so I can see the pathetic mass huddled against a corner. I can stand an inch from him without him noticing, as the room is bathed in unrelenting darkness. I begin the questioning. " I'm going to ask you some questions, and your going to answer them. First off what is your name?" The shadowy figure sits up, though still hunchbacked, and responds by spitting on my shoe before hissing. "I'll never take, Tyrant!" I guess he wants it the hard way. I land an upward kick on his jaw, cracking it and sending him slamming against the corner. Next I pick him up from his hair and proceed to slam his face against the solid concrete wall three times. I lean in closely and asked again in a calm voice. "I said, tell me your name." He spits blood onto my visor, I kick his private area five times, he lets out screams on the last two. I lean in again, this time holding his head up by his neck. "Well?" He responds, though it takes him some time. "H-H-Homer Elec-Electro." Good, I have something. "Well Homer, it looks like you were finally found out. You just can't beat us, you know this don't you?" He stammers out. "T-The Capitol Wi-Will fall, your days arrre numbrd." We'll see about that. Still holding his throat, I throw him across the room. He slams against the iron door, trying to get up. I stomp on his hand and he falls back down with a scream of pain and a grind of bones. I look down at him, literally, and ask him something. "Now, I know you work for someone, now tell me who it is." He looks up. "I'll never betray my brothers, the revolution is now!" I beg to differ, my foot pushing down further and further on his foot. "You know, this can all go away with a few words." He screams for a few minuets before answering. "I work for the peoples liberation, for the Mockingjay!" Of corse he does, I start to grind my heel on his hand, while elaborating. "Names!" He gets the idea. "Alright, I was sent by the president of district 13." I pick him up by his shirts collar and hold him so high his feet dangle. "There's only one president in Panem." I throw him into one of the walls. "What's his name, and what claim does she have to the presidents throne?" Fearing another crotch stomping, he answers. "Alma Coin, she isn't related to Snow in any way." This is good to know, but not what I asked. I pull his left arm out and use my foot to pin him down as I pull. "That's not what I asked, now tell me what makes this Coin think she could ever be president?" The man shrieks first, but then gives in. "She kept district 13 from destruction at your hands! She is the true president of Panem! She will burn the Capitol to the ground! Death to the Gamemakers!, Death to Snow!" Bad move. Pulling his arm, I pick him up and throw him on the ground. I land several rough kicks to his side. "Where is district 13 now?!" His words are feeble. The same place as last time, only underground." I cup his cracked chin in my hand causing him to wince. "Good. Now, what are your plans?, and don't pretend not to have any. " This is important information, so he won't relent just yet. "NO! I'll never tell you! The revolution cannot be halted! Long live Katniss Everdeen! Long may her - AAAHH!" I interrupt his rant by crushing his other hand. Then I head over to the table in the corner. I unlock the chest and look around inside. Surgical rotation knives, blowtorches, acid beakers, and bottles of a clear liquids. I read the label on them, it reads: 'Capitol Entertainments Brand Purging Potions, makes room for seconds, thirds, forths, and much more without hurting your figure.' Rumors persist that the Capitol induce vomiting so as to eat more food, but I'm now tempted to see what this does on an empty stomach. I walk over to the man, sit him up by the hair, and cup his jaw in my mouth. "I don't wanna talk? This will make you talk, all right." I force his mouth open, and drain a whole bottle down his gullet. I step out of the way, and just in time. He vomits out for twenty unabridged minuets. Once he finishes, the floor is completely covered in bloody vomit and stomach acids. He curls into a bowl and starts shaking and whimpering, I bet the only reason he isn't crying is that he has no liquid left in him. From where I am, I ask. "Now will you speak?" He sings like a jabberjay, interrupted only by moans and groans of agony as he explains that they district 13 Rebs will only attack once they have the districts support. He gives the longitude and latitude of every hideout and black market in the district, as well as the names of other spies. Finally, I ask for nuclear launch codes. He draws the line here, or tries to. I get another bottle, and shove his face in his own red vomit, drowning him in it for a few minuets. He gives in. I make him down a second bottle of vomit juice, lock the chest, and leave the room as he hurls out what remains of his guts.

The same peacekeeper who delivered my orders, returned. His face held an acute mixture of gratitude, horror, and admiration. "Good job extracting information, peacekeepers have been dispatched to the black markets, hideouts, and homes of the fellow spies. The launch codes are being sent to the Capitol, as is the name of the disgraced mayor of district 13, and this spy will receive further questioning there. Also, before I forget, you've been promoted to Major for consistent good work. Go to the training facility until second meal, then resume your regular schedule." I'll be darned, I just received a promotion, this is good. My thoughts are interrupted as I can hear the Reb vomiting agonizingly, I don't feel sorry for him, he knew the risks.

As I shoot into the dummies, which wear district 13 uniforms, I can't help but wonder about what that nutcase said. Is there really going to be another war? I'm still upset by what I saw in district 8, how people suddenly became willing to hang infants and pregnant women if it will advance their cause. It's startling how normal humans will so quickly revert to once unimaginable cruelty. The bullets tear through the dummies cleanly, leaving only a hole in their wake. This isn't realistic though, as often when someone is slayed, their post death appearance is heavily different from how they looked during life. Cato's demise comes to mind, as the image of mutts ripping him apart with the Twelves blessing is forever imprinted in my mind. His screams were as blood-curdling as they were horrific. The blank and emptiness of his eyes drives me to sorrow. I wish Cato won


	21. Chapter 21: Rising tensions

We are on high alert, constantly looking over our shoulders. The district square is filled with gallows and flogging posts, the rattle of firing squads can be heard almost daily. We patrol the streets regularly, more of us are patrolling, more of us arrive each day. We now patrol in groups of five to six, marching down streets while single peacekeepers snoop around alleyways. The Capitol high command must be expecting some calamity soon, else they wouldn't bolster our ranks. In the letters Annona sends me, she mentioned sweeping drafts of several males and females into the ranks, from both stone mining working class and merchant class. I hope Annona is doing well in my home, the family I come from was one of weapon-smiths, wealthier than quarriers but not as well off as merchants, and never as well as the Capitol.

The career districts have no delusion of being Capitolites, but district 2 is treated as a vassal. The relationship is like that between a knight and a king, both know who is really in charge but neither goes hungry by days end. From what we learned in school, the form of government that dictates Panem was first proposed by Plato, thousands of years before even the North Americans time. He envisioned a society in which a philosopher king who sought wisdom would rule over all, with the help of a class of the brave and courageous warriors, who kept those concerned with primal needs in line and protected them from themselves. This is why a gold statue of Plato stands in the Capitol city circle, and why before the dark days the Capitol was originally named Kallipolis. Or at least in theory. The Capitol is populated mostly by hedonists addicted to debauchery, with only about a handful scientists and statesmen actually steering a continent of people in the hope of reaching the port of progress. The peacekeepers however, still emulate chivalrous knights as never before. All my life, I and every boy and girl my age were surrounded with tales of chivalry on the battlefield and monuments to courage litter the landscape. In fact, where as the Capitol society is dominated by individuality, per suit of pleasure, and living large, district 2s society constantly drills its people with messages of self-sacrifice, courage, gratitude, and preparation. Still, it's impossible to complain, because despite having no interest in silver or gold, our district never has a shortage of bread and good things of life. The constant stream of career victors adds free food for a year at best, and tessera without fear at the worst. Since district 2 has the most victors by a long-shot, they often pull a portion of their winnings to fund the building of great public works like the fifth alexandrine library, the largest library in district 2 and the second largest in Panem until the Capitol built one twice as big so they can keep the record for biggest everything. The great library was the result of five long years of district 2 sweat and several million dollars of many collective victors, it holds many ancient and sometimes untranslated works, some of which belong to the pre-North American indigenous peoples, as well as modern classics written in our time. The spaciousness of district 2 allows colossal building structures to be erected without sacrifice. This is contrasted by district 8, where everything was crowded, and district 4, where the sea blocks expansion.

As my group of peacekeepers march down the streets, peoples close their window shutters and hurry away from us. It's no longer out of resentment alone, but also fear. In alleyways, pre-pubescents train with their parents unmolested, using wooden replica weapons. Taking up a career as a victor is the most honorable and profitable way to earn ones bread in districts 1 and 4, but in district 2 peacekeeping is still more honorable, if less lucrative. The air is filled with sea salt. Even from the inland parts of this district, salty sea air can still be inhaled, as can be heard the squawking of numerous sea birds. Some of the sea birds live along the coast and pick apart fish left in the farm age bins, others migrate through or to here, often traveling the whole globe to reach this location. It's funny how the animals travel more often than the people. District 4 is one of two where extra-district travel is even possible, not counting the hunger games contestants. The other is district 2, for its sons and daughters dawn white and spread throughout the nation. We head to the docks for inspections.

We scan every inch of the steamship, looking for possible contraband, stowaways, runaways, and regulation violations. The crew wait outside the vessel while the captain shows us around. The captain is a burly man wearing a sea blue coat and cap. He shows us every room, and we investigate. "What are these guns for?" I say, holding one up. "They're only narwhal hunting rifles, they don't even fire bullets, just harpoons." A'll be the judge of that. I take one, load a harpoon in, and fire into the water. " Are these registered?" "Yes sir, here are the proofs." He hands me wrinkled paper, I look over it, they're clearly forgeries. "Do you take me for an idiot, or do you just like insulting people?" He seems to not understand this. "What do you mean?" "These are forgeries, apart from the fact that the signer died two years after this was signed, no one in their right mind would allow this many rifles for such a small crew. You and your first mate are under arrest for forgery and stockpiling weapons. Your crews sailing permits are voided." He suddenly became enraged, pushing me down. "You filthy pale coat! You think you can come onto my boat and tell me how many rifles I can have, you and all your pale coat pals are all a gang of pirates." He kicked me in my weak area and punched me across the helmet. Pulling out my knife, I stabbed his stomach while simultaneously kicking him across the room, which was the captions cabin. He tried to get up, but I shot him dead as he began to charge me. He doubled over and collapsed upon the flood, a pool of blood forming under his chest. We went out to arrest the first mate, and tell the crew they no longer have permission to hunt. They grumble and curse, and as they leave, the largest shouts bitterly. "You'll pay for this, you and all your filthy renegade friends will all pay for this!" On of the other peacekeepers answers tauntingly. "O look, the poacher thinks we're the renegades." This is the fourth weapons stockpile raided this week.

While eating the third days meal, I'm filled in on the events of the games. From what Helena, Aric, Harod and Montgomery tell me, Cashmere and Gloss fought their last battle. This is a disappointment, as I can already imagine the weeping, the crying, Gloss's pregnant wife who lost her love, his six children who are now without a father. Though Cashmere was never married, she still adopted one boy and bore another with here boyfriend, now her children no longer have a mother. It would be hard enough, if not for them having to move out of the victors mansion. I still hope Brutus or Enobaria can still deliver the victors justice and separate Katniss from her body. The people seem to grow restless with every passing day, every weapon stockpile confiscated adds more rage, each arrest and execution piles on more fury. I fear how they'll react should Katniss actually win.


	22. Chapter 22:A second battle

Sirens honk loudly, blaring for us to wake up and to arms. As I get up, I'm dreading what will come next. I had hoped it would be over, that I could have peace in my time, yet deep in my heart of hearts, I knew trouble was brewing horribly. I quickly strap on my sword and head to the armory with the others. We stood before our commander, the infamous Larsen Thread. As I waited in my unit, he gave the orders. "Soldiers! We are to defend the perimeter around the main three, be sure to be expect fighting like hellfire and to return such. Do I make myself clear?" We bellowed our responce. "Sir, yes sir!" He gave one final responce. "Let's show these Rebs what the boys in white are made of!" We marched to our position, though we traveled as one we could divide into groups of 25 lead by Thread, myself, and the other two Majors like me should the need arise. The flag bearer carried the banner of the peacekeepers, the symbol of our cause and of our ancestors cause.

We got to position guarding a street which ran parallel to the sea, behind us the bay, the other side of which held the peacekeeper fortress, and the justice building within ten blocks and the communications center upon an island in the middle of the bay. Far away the blasting of artillery shoots fire and death onto the docks, destroying the ships so they can't be used for maneuvering. We guard a small wall of sandbags, barbed wire, and tank jacks. Though tanks haven't been used in centuries, the metal chunks of iron still halt cars, armored or otherwise. The district 4 Rebs attacks aren't as suicidal as the district 8 Rebs were. Instead the district 4 Rebs shoot at us with harpoon rifles, charge out from blind-spots, throw Molotov cocktails. A rebel shoots a harpoon rifle at me, I duck just it time and it misses by just an inch. I fire back with my machine gun, mowing down the assaulter as he tries to reload. Me and my brothers in arms mow down Rebs as they attempt to shoot at us, bullets filling their chests and blood splattering from them. A Molotov cocktail lands some distance to my left, another peacekeeper picks it up so as to throw it back, but it explodes in a fiery ball. He gripped his still-burning arm with his good one, and falls on his back screaming agonizingly. A peacekeeper medic, who's identified by her red tinted uniform which isn't tinted with black like normal ones, rushes over to the injured man and pulls an amputation saw from her medical bag. A Reb falling a spear with the Mockingjay symbol on it charges out from a blind spot behind an alley corner and tries to jump the sandbag wall, only to be caught in the barbed wire. As he tries to pull himself loose from the spiked wire prisen, he becomes even more entrapped in it. I shoot his face open to end his suffering. Flamethrowers gush out liquified fire that engulfs and wipes out charging rebels, rooftop snipers pick off those who try to hide, mounted machine guns mow down chargers and shooters. In the nearby waters, a peacekeeper ship with incendiary cannons shoot at rebel held buildings, causing them to collapse into rubble heaps. In the skies overhead, district 13 hovercrafts dogfight with peacekeeper hovercrafts, from both sides these metal sky-beasts plummet to the earth and explode upon crashing. For every ten Reb shooters, one is a district 13 machine gunmen. My bullets cut down attacking rebels, causing them to fall dead. As the fight progresses, the rebel ranks swell more and more. Despite the fact that we gun down many, each we kill seems to be replaced by eight more. The peacekeeper directly to my right is felled by a district 13 sniper, who then expires when one of the incendiary cannons blasts off his whole building. I throw a grenade and it blows apart a dumpster the Rebs are using as a shield. Three Reb shooters attack my position along with a Reb flag bearer, of corse wielding the banner of the Mockingjay. As I duck to reload, four of my comrades nearby are felled. While they try to climb over the barbed wire, I pop up and unload my machine gun into them, while shouting. "Death to the traitors! Death to the Mockingjay!" The flag bearer, with his last breath, throws his flag javelin style at me, knocking off my helmet. I throw a grenade, which explodes with a fiery fury and spared none of the Rebs who charge my position. I signal for a comrade to take my place and head over to the nearby supply truck for a new helmet. Next to it, a medic truck sits as medics try in desperation to keep our comrades alive. Some howl out in anguish, some silently convulse as foam runs down their faces, some are eternally still and loaded into body bags, carried off to be sent to loved ones back home in district 2 and very rarely in the Capitol. Montgomery, the quarter master, gives me a new helmet, and a bag of fresh ammo. I head back to the position, only to find all but one peacekeeper have died. The corpses are charred and burning, grenades must be the cause. I take up position and hold off Rebs while waiting for reinforcements. All the Rebs now charge my position, all are felled my lead and fire.

The artillery then came in. Several district 13 soldiers started attacking my position, and reinforcements had still not come. These had actual guns, meaning I was in for trouble. As they would march, stop and fire, and march again, I didn't have much time to fight back. I threw a grenade at them, the first wave was blasted to bits. Too many are coming, I shoot them down but they don't cease. A grey canister is shot into the rebel hoard by a peacekeeper mortar somewhere behind me. Out of it comes a greenish gas, spewing over the whole area. The Rebs fall onto the ground and convulse violently, twitching and screaming. Those who can pull out a pistol and off themselves. I recognize this stuff, it's the tracker jacket gas that's used in the arena. It's affects are ten times worse, and always kill. It's a good thing my helmet has an oxygen filter. Some things are timeless, weaponized biology was first used in the first, fourth, and final of five global conflicts between the empires of the ancient world. It's effective, efficient, and terrifying. The Rebs agonize in the plume for some time, I take this chance to reload. Soon the reinforcements arrive, and more Rebs come marching in. Overhead, a peacekeeper hovercraft crashes into a rebel one, and they both plummet to the ground. We all duck as the explosion wipes out all the Rebs and leaves only a narrow gap in the street. I give the order to move the line forward to that gap, as having less to defend makes of a better position. While guarding the gap, medics rush into the metal tangle in search of survivors or prisoners.

After holding the position until a new commander comes, the new commander gives me the order to take twenty five peacekeepers and probe a side alley and, if possible, expand the perimeter. I lead my men down the dark and narrow alley, being cautious of any activity. We were ambushed. At the end of the alley we met rebel gunfire, one of the harpoons hit my leg, causing me to collapse on the ground. Because of that, I wasn't hit by the shooting that killed four of my men. On the ground, I threw a grenade at the ambushers. It didn't kill many, just threw. But the blast scared the others away long enough for my men to finish them off. The medic of our group pulled the harpoon out of my leg, then bandaged it. The excruciating experience took an hour. Once I was bandaged up, I was told to get further care once I could. The fallen were carried back to the main position, and fresh peacekeepers came to fill their place. I move my arm in a signal that we were to continue moving. We went further down the alley, only to find that an overturned armored car blocked the path. We went to one of the doors that lead into the alley, and I used my pistol to break the hinges. We rushed in, and surprised the rebels inside. Though there were only seven, and they were asleep, finishing them off and securing the building was still progress. We exited the front of the building, which was a tenant, and found the road littered with corpses. We went into the next door building, also a shop, and found people inside, but not rebels. Six peacekeepers were tied up against the wall, and two more lay dead on the ground with blood coming from their heads. We untied them, and searched the hovel for weapons. After finding sone district 13 machine guns, we armed the freed captives and went out to the road again. While walking around the roads turn, we ran into a rabble of Rebs. "The prisoners have escaped! Kill them!" Without hesitation, we killed the Rebs in an instant. We continued around the turn and find ourselves behind our own line. It turns out that our comrades pushed forward while we probed the area. Another Major comes so I may take some time to get my leg fixed up.

Inside a medics tent, a medic slides bits of metal out of my leg, one by one, with large quantities of pain per each pull. After examining the gash, the media shakedown his head. "This calls for drastic measures. He reaches for a jar of something off the table, takes off the cap, and uses a cotton ball to swab it over my gash. Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt nearly as much as expected. He then instructs me to lay down for one hour, and my leg will be good as new. For an hour, I lay motionless, listening to the others in the tent. Screaming, crying, cursing, the sound of boned being cut, the zap of heart resuscitates, the panting of desperate CPR. The nauseating oder of blood and vial, I no longer notice it. I suppose I'm used to the idea of taking life, it comes natural now.


	23. Chapter 23:The rebel offensive

I'm back on the battlefield, this time I'm part of a counter-assault unit. My wound is completely gone, not even a scar remains. The healing stuff must be high quality. My unit is one hundred peacekeepers, four squads, a quarter of a brigade, which combined with three others forms a platoon, which combined with three or more others forms a legion. We march down a different street, our goal is to retake cannery 19. Due to the semi-urban layout of district 4, taking this cannery will provide a base camp for further assaults. The unit fast-marched towards the door of the cannery while peacekeeper snipers gave covering fire. As we progress our way over, one at a time my comrades are felled by rebel snipers, who also have to duel with the peacekeeper snipers and sharpshooters. As we reach the large entrance to the cannery loading yard, Rebs fired off bullets to meet us. We all scrambled to reach the cover of surrounding cargo crates. Most of us reached the cover, and a firefight ensued. Every time I turned around the corner of the crate to shoot, six Rebs shot back. I tried a different strategy, pulling out a grenade, I threw it at the Rebs but didn't back behind the cover. As the Rebs and I exchanged fire, an explosion went off just in front of the Rebs, who didn't notice the grenade. Though it wasn't too close, their failure to take cover cost the six rebel gunmen their lives. I quickly raced to a closer crate, while my comrades provided covering fire. I then race to the entrance with a few others. We reach the entrance, and one of the other peacekeepers walk into the dark cannery it check for traps. He turns around. "All clear! Aaahhhhh!" A district 13 Reb bashes his feet out from below him with the butt of his machine gun while a local rebel stabs his back with a knife. He pulls out the clips on three of his grenades. A massive wall of fire erupts from inside, we jump out and duck down with out arms over our heads. Once upon our feet, we rush in.

The blast must have been huge, for not only is the area of origin replaced with a bloody mess of people bits and armor chunks, but sixteen other Rebs were felled by the blast. We head down and around the cannery, securing the area. No prisoners are taken. Once the areas secured, I signal that its safe to bring more in. Attempts to barricade the cannery are hampered by rebel counter assaults. This time they charge fanatically like those in district 8 did. From a first story side door, I mow down waves upon waves of Rebs. My bullets are like a reaper, hacking them down in blasts of fiery lead. They are obviously locals, as the district 13 Rebs shoot from the windows of nearby buildings. The local Rebs are armed with harpoon rifles, oars, spears, knives, hooks, or hatchets. Some hold flags depicting a red Mockingjay holding an arrow, I try to aim for the flag bearers when I get the choice. As I unload round after round, the Rebs got closer and closer. Blood splattered from them in huge quantities, so much so that they started slipping on it. Their cries filled the air, I let out a scream of fury as I killed many. My backup started shooting while I reloaded, the Rebs within arms reach. Each wave I littered the back alley with the slain, each time another larger wave stormed over the bodies of their dead, more and closer between. It eventually got to the point where I couldn't reload and was swinging my sword, chopping down charges left and right. Finally I backed inside and around a corner, chopping as I went. Two of my brothers-in-arms fires off at them and I knelt down and reload. Others pushed a cargo crate in front of the back door. I went to the commander to assess the situation, he had a bandage around his left eye. "There are too many out there, how do we fight them?" He looked at me with his good eye and said this. "There are too many, and more arrive every hour. Their swarming our position, and I fear the other districts are having similar problems. Our only hope is to hold off long enough for a distraction, then fall back to a more suitable location. Strengthen the positions, and prepare for a fight of a lifetime."

I go up to the canneries outer balcony, the smokestacks are almost caved in. Above me are snipers on the roof, who thin the hoard and spot hiding district 13 officers. I fire at Rebs down on the streets, sometimes throwing grenades upon them. The latter causes panic and throws the survivors into a frenzy. Rebs try in vain to throw bricks or grenades back at me, often falling back to them with disastrous results for them. To my left stand a flamethrower peacekeeper who pours molten fire upon them throng, screams erupting with each gush. We fight with grim determination, shooting down Rebs though twenty come in to replace each killed. Then a shock hits me. Rolling down the street, a district 13 armored vehicle rolled. The Rebs have armors now. It points its nozzle at the wall, and blasts out something. A portion of the wall below me crumbles. The flamethrower shoots at the metal beast, broiling the occupants within. As one tries to climb out of the top, I shoot at him. He rolls off the metal beast and dies on the ground. As I fire off at the Rebs below, they charge into the gaping hole, only to meet fire from the peacekeepers within. Four more low-rolling armored vehicles rolled onto the street, firing at the wall in succession. The flamethrower peacekeeper is felled by a sniper, he doubles over dead next to me. As a bullet wisps past my face, I grab the body and prevent if from falling over. Pulling off his flamethrower, I strap it on.

The spew fiery plumes at the Rebs below, preventing them from charging into the hole the behemoths made. I do this for forty-five minuets while rebel snipers try to shoot me. Then the distraction comes. Six peacekeeper hovercrafts rocket over us, draining gallons of gaseous tracker jacker venom on the rebel throng below. All of them choke on the stuff and die in apparent agony. The metal behemoths are stilled, as those within are eroded inside out. My communicator gets a signal. "Bows your chance, retreat to the main base." I climb down the stairwell of the outer balcony, still wearing the flamethrower and carrying my fallen comrade over my shoulder. I hurry behind the rest of my unit as we flee the cannery. Once we are a safe distance away, the cannery explodes all at once. It must have been planted with detonation bombs to slow the Rebs. No matter, we just have to get back to the base. We reach the sandbag wall, the rebels side of it is littered with rebel bodies twitching in death and red vapor rising slowly from the ground. The peacekeepers armored trucks are starting to drive off, I climb into the last one just as it begins to speed off. I sit on one of the benches, the fallen peacekeeper sliding off my shoulder and onto the vehicles floor.


	24. Chapter 24:Beach landing

Back at the base, the Rebs are attacking with everything they've got. District 13 must be supplying them, as the Rebs are equipped with tanks, armored cars, hovercrafts, and all the necessities of war. We still managed to hold a quarter of the districts habited area, but fighting is intense. Unlike the justice building and the communications center, the peacekeepers base is located centrally, so it's close to the combat.

The people in the areas held by peacekeepers either want to rebel and can't, just want to avoid bloodshed, and loyalists. Thought the victors village hasn't fallen into enemies hands, several victors defected to the rebels despite living off the capitols dime for years. The rest were arrested for interrogation, and will be returned if their loyalty is proven. I still grow angry when I remember how the district 8 Rebs hung any victors who weren't radical enough. I got some information since the detonation of the cannery, almost none of it good. The districts are revolting en masse, district 13 is fanning the flames by sending in troops and tanks, the Mockingjay and friends escaped from the arena, and district 12 was raised with incendiary bombs during a hovercraft melee. There is some relieving news though. For starters, Romulus Thread and ninety percent of his peacekeepers were pulled out a month before the strike. There's also the fact that district 8 was kept in line so well that the district 13 Rebs had to do all the fighting. District 1 and district 2 have not fallen victim to traitor zealotry, nor are they revolting. The revolts is Districts 5,7, and 9 aren't making any progress, and are almost snuffed out. What's more, Peeta was left behind and is under lock and key. In the letters Annona send me, I learn of developments back home. Sweeping drafts across district 2 are bringing even more into the boys in white, those who aren't drafted are working in the weapons factories at an exchange of a pound of grain per hour. All around district 2, support for the state are evident in the forms of peacekeeper banners and flags being hung above the homes of veteran and current peacekeepers, posters and radio announcements praising peacekeepers, regular rallies in which Katniss is burned in effigy, active volunteering to become peacekeepers, literally hunting Mockingjay birds that inhabit the area, and the formation of a defensive militia. There are rumors of similar events in district 1, even that a district 1 brigade will be formed. I doubt this, as peacekeepers are only recruited from district 1 in dire exceptions.

We head to our position along the beach for a defensive. Enough of the fleet survived that the local Rebs are going to try a beach landing farther up the coast than they have captured, hoping to maneuver a pincer and surround us. We take up position in and around the bunkers and pillboxes. The beach in front of us is filled with iron jacks, land mines, pods, all of which is wrapped in a tangle of barbed wire. We prepared quite a gauntlet for the Rebs, complete with mounted machine guns, artilleries on the cliffs behind us, and hovercrafts waiting above. Now we rebels land on the beach in huge droves, charging in swarm-like waves from the shallows and onto the beach. We hold still, being sure only to fire once they're halfway across. As explosions roar and Rebs become entangled in the barbed wire we wait. Then they reach the halfway point.

Like a giant spring-trap, we all simultaneously open fire, raining a storm-like hellfire of shell and machine gun, flamethrowers and gas cannons spew out liquified fire and TrackerJacker vapor respectivly, reeking immense havoc among the rebel ranks. Bullets rattle ceaselessly, hovercrafts dogfight in the air above. Amphibious rebel tanks roll out of the shallows and onto the beach, meeting their end via land mines, hovercraft bombs, TrackerJacker gas, on rocket launcher peacekeepers. A few peacekeeper tanks even fire at them alongside the pillboxes and bunkers and trenches, these must have been shipped in from the acropolis in district 2. Though tanks haven't seen combat for centuries, the tank crews still trained as though war would start tomarrow. I'll bet they were surprised when it actually did.

The Rebs fall like dominos, collapsing as the bullets hit them. Though their are no infants on the battlefield, some of the rebel chargers are as young as twelve. Though I feel slightly bad for them, I'm not heartbroken. A twelve year old with a semiautomatic is just as dangerous and bloodthirsty as a fourth year old with a semiautomatic. If a peacekeeper gets too squeamish to fire a child-soldier can be more dangerous than an adult one. As the Rebs are felled by the arrows of lead and fire, some of whom are younger than twelve, I internally have to remind myself that there's nothing I can do for them. The people who shoved a gun in their hands is their real killer. Apart from that, I knew I would have to kill when I signed up those years ago. However, I also knew that my efforts would be for a noble cause. I would bring law and justice to whichever district I was assigned to. In this way I am much like my first cousin Cato, as he volunteered to bring nutrients and pride to his birth district. He fought to the very end, and I intend to as well. Though as the rebels fall dead in front of me, I wish the uprising had ended in district 8 with the raising of the peacekeepers flag above the justice building. The flag of my cause, and of my ancestors.

By the days end, the Rebs have stopped coming. The beaches and shallows are covered with bodies and stained with blood. Seabirds fly down to pick apart the fallen. As we head back, and others come to relieve us of the watch, I feel as though they will attack tomarrow. I can't think right now, so I climb into my bunk bed and fall asleep immediately.


	25. Chapter 25:We won't burn with you!

I stand, paralyzed, unable to move, forced to watch while wearing full uniform. Cato charges into the clearing, several wolf-mutts in hot pursuit. Blood dripping from his forehead. He climbs to the top of a metal structure, barley making it to the top. Two raggedy Twelves climb up after him, the male having his foots joint ripped open by a large mutt. The fight starts, I'm now at the base of the cornucopias left side. Cato throws punches, catching them both off guard and appearing to be winning. The female twelve notches an arrow into her silver bow, but Cato holds the male by the throat. Panic fills the eyes of the female twelve, and Cato slurred out. He declared to the world how the Capitol used him, and how killing is all he can do. He continues. "No! I can still do this ... I can still do this! One last kill. Bring pride to my district. Not that it matters." By this I know that Cato doesn't care about the glory so long as he can get out alive, and the he considers Peeta already dead. But he doesn't have the last kill, the kill that would forever free him from having to kill ever again. The female shoots an arrow into his hand, the male punches him, and with malevolent intent pushes Cato to the mutts. I try to reach for my gun, I remain frozen. Cato tries fighting back but one of the mutts gnaws his leg and he falls down. I try to pull my gun from its straps and save my cousin, someone who was like a brother. My arm doesn't budge. The seconds and minuets feel like centuries, and this horror drags on for hours. The twelves do nothing, allowing Cato to suffer this agony for hours. The sun sets and rises again, Cato still suffers. His arms are red shreds, his face is no longer recognizable, blood gushes from his mouth and nose. Still the twelves do nothing. I try to reach for my gun a third tome, now intent on using it against the twelves who put my cousin through such pain. My arm doesn't even wiggle. The female notches an arrow into her silver bow, aiming it at Cato. Though I retry with all my might to grab out my gun and exterminate the brown haired demon, my arm doesn't move even an inch. The physical exertion I empty into trying to grab my gun accomplishes nothing. As an arrow flies through the air and hits Cato, I let out a scream.

My eyes snap open and Harod is shaking me. I'm in my sleeping jumpsuit, drenched in sweat. It's midnight. As I gulp in oxygen, Harod tries to calm me. "It's okey Lyes, it's just a dream. Everything's going to be alright, just take a deep breath. Good, do you feel better now?" I look him in the eyes and answer, drained of energy. "No ... it wasn't just a dream. ... It really happened. He's really gone." Harod is silent, understanding who I'm referring to and also knowing how much I don't like being pitied. I speak again, I have some air in me now. "Did I wake anyone else?" Relieves that I changed the subject, Harod answers. "No, the others are wearing their noise cancelers." I turn my soaked pillow over to its dry side, thank him for waking me, and pull my sweaty blankets over my shoulder as Harod climbs down the latter of my bunk and heads back to his bed.

After a bad nights sleep, the I taste very little of the first meal. I take off my helmet, rest it at the table, and drink spoonfuls of salty broth with chewy shrimps. The warm soup wakes me up bite by bite. I take the green, fish shaped bread from my tray and place it into my soup. I stir the soup and the bread absorbs some of the broth, only sipping periodically. My friends sat down at the table next to me and began to eat.

Upon the upper part of the walls in the mess hall, large television screens that were installed a week ago show a barrage of old news. Videos promoting the virtue and honor that comes with fighting and dying in the Capitols defense, some new and some from the dark days. These videos also depict bravery and valor the accompanies the peacekeepers, people from district 2 welcoming home returning peacekeepers, and veterans giving accounts of how their service changed their lives for the better. A third depiction is that of rebel atrocities, pillaging, massacres, executing of POWs, and a general warning to defeat the grey menace. The posters that have always hung on the lower part of the walls depict the same things. One shows a peacekeeper wearing the Capitol Guard uniform, squatting down to inspect the bruised knee of a sitting Capitol toddler, a gentle expression on the peacekeepers face. The words beneath this poster says "Serve and protect". Another poster shows an image of a modern peacekeeper standing proud, behind him is an elderly peacekeeper of the dark days, clad in a white hazmat jumpsuit. The words beneath this poster spell "Let the proud memory of our forefathers aid you in the fight." Another poster is the image of a medieval knight in pearly white armor, kneeling on his right knee while president snow taps the sword on his shoulder. The message under this one reads "Chivelry" A newer poster shows a mushroom cloud behind a mountain range, an wooden sign with the district 2 symbol is visible in the corner. This one reads "If the rebels win ...". There are too many posters to name, but we all know the stories. Anybody who has ever set foot in a district 2 history class learned of all the horror that the rebels commit during the Dark Days. Widows, orphans and motherless children, destruction, nuclear warfare, rape, murder, child-soldiers, purges,murder and cannibalism of babies and POWs, as well as extermination of entire cities. The rebels of the dark days weren't able to take the Capitol because of peacekeeper hovercrafts above and white boots on the ground. These horrors are what they fight against.

The screens show a surprising twist right about now. They crudely cut to a scene in district 8. Katniss Everdeen makes a speech about the Rebs true intent. Ending it with "If we burn, You'll burn with us." The screen then went black.

This conforms what I suspected when the district 8 Rebs burned down their own granary so as to kill us, and when a rebel with explosives tied to his chest launched a suicide attack. The Rebs are only out for vengence, they only want to maximize bloodshed. Even if it means humanity goes extinct, Katniss considers this a small price to pay for the defeat of her enemies. I don't even believe that Peeta values humanities survival over mutual destruction, despite his calling for armistice. The Rebs don't want peace, they don't even want victory, what they want is mutually assured annihilation. How do I know they won't nuke the Capitol next Tuesday? The Girl on Fire, an accurate name for someone who can only destroy. Like fire, she'll destroy everything if unchecked. They can burn alone, the rest of us want a civilization. If they had any humanity in them at any point, they've clearly thrown it into the fire by now. They are no longer just rebelling against the Capitol, they're rebelling against humanity.

While I practice shooting at the firing range, I remember my dream. I remember the Twelves allowing Cato's misery to be prolonged for eighteen hours. I fire bullets at the dummies, wishing the dummies were the Twelves. This time, I'm not paralyzed. This time,I can shoot. I practice for an hour, then report to my commander for duty. We have less practice time, as most of our time is devoted to combat.

My quarter unit marches quietly, as we are a mile behind enemy lines. Once we reach the coordinates, I explain the mission we were gives. "Peacekeepers, we are to take position in the surrounding buildings. We need to clear them out in one hour, then we are to wait for enemy supplies to pass through so we can ambush them. Am I clear?" The twenty five peacekeepers respond. "Sir, Yer sir!" We occupy the buildings surrounding the street, I go into one of the tenant buildings with three others. After a sweep of the filthy hovel, we conform that there's no one else here. We each take position in one of the rooms, placing our gun barrels at the window. Now we wait.

Ten minuets pass before the supply convoy arrives. I signal for the others to wait, not to fire until the second vehicle is visible. The second munitions truck can be seen, I give the signal to fire. Bullets storm at the surprised rebel convoys, instantly killing the Rebs who walk beside the vehicles as guards. Once the drivers start firing back, half of us get our rocket launchers. We aim, and fire. Both the vehicles explode in a fiery uproar. We all head out onto the streets, and check behind the second inferno for more. There are none, so we head back, staying just long enough to place some land mines. We march down the streets, meeting no resistance. When we reach the front, we find out why. The Rebs are attacking hard, obviously intent on taking the position today. We look at our swarmed brothers in arms, and then at eachother. Let's surprise those Rebs.

We attack the Rebs from behind, catching them off guard. As our bullets rattle, we kill the surprised Rebs. Those who try to turn around to face us meet bullets from snipers at the front, those who don't meet our bullets. After one hour, this group of Rebs are dead. We march through the peacekeeper line, met by applauds and cheering. As I looked at the peacekeepers who were cheering, I noticed that they must have been on their last legs when we got here. Some are dressed in stained white torn rags, some are missing helmets or armor pieces, some are missing legs or hands, most have their last ammo clip in their guns and have filthy bandages wrapped around them. At least one sitting back to the wall had his face so bundled in the white wrappings that only his mouth and nose could be seen. This one smiled and clapped gleefully when told that the Reb offensive had been crushed from behind. My men guard alongside these weary warriors until fresh troops and munitions take the places of the dead, injured, tired, and demoralized. We head back to the base with those.

Back within the protecting walls of the peacekeepers base, I practiced with my machine gun. The bullets I used were practice bullets, as real bullets couldn't be wasted. They still leave the mark on the dummies like real ones would, but they wouldn't do that to real people. Fake bullets for fake enemies. On the battlefield, these are traded for real enemies and real bullets. Real danger and real death.


	26. Chapter 26:Fire and death

My time here is classified by a daily struggle against the rebel hoards, punctuated by the booming of hovercraft strikes and artillery bombardment. Both sides have artillery, hovercrafts, tanks, and machine guns. However, we have more of all these, plus all of the armored cars. As my unit shoots at the Rebs beyond the front, a wall of barbed wire and concrete road blocks, they fall dead. The machine gun nests that criss-cross the front use mounted machine guns that deliver more bullets farther than hand held ones. We no longer wear the visor helmets and lite armor of district law inforcers, we wear battle armor and helmets that cover the whole head and hides the face behind a black glass. I can see the enemies faces, they can't see mine. The old semi-automatics of peacetime were traded in for fully automatic hand held machine guns of war. I remember singing the battle-cry of the peacekeepers outside the newly recaptured district 8 justice building, how could we have made the mistake that it ended there?

The local traitors charge with knives and harpoon rifles, only to be cut down by lead and fire, or burned by the flamethrowers that spew out an inferno, of suffocate as gas nozzles belch out tracker jacker gas. Peacekeepers are kept out of the range of this killer, and those close to it wear gas masks. A local Reb is about to throw a grenade into my machine gun nest. I turn the constant flow of my machines bullets towards him for only a moment, before turning back. He was cut down and died then and there. The grenade in his still warm hand explodes in a fiery plume, killing two Rebs who each carry a Mockingjay flag. I let out grunts and screams of fury as I mow down row upon row of rebel assaulters. Some Rebs screech loudly, "For the Mockingjay!", before charging into the fray. Just ahead of me, an artillery shell explodes and throws charging Rebs into the air like rag dolls. From the direction, I assume Rebs tried to take me out and botched the strike. Feeling my blood rushing from near-death, I bellow out in a tone of near-mania. "DEATH TO THE TRAITORS, DEATH TO THE MOCKINGJAY!"

As the day progresses, something remarkable happens. The Rebs charge in less frequent waves, and the waves have less chargers in them. Eventually, they stop chagrin all together and are content to simply observe from just beyond the range of fire. They must be waiting for reinforcements, so my commander calls for peacekeepers to relieve us of this. My commander, Malroy Stanley, tells us that we are to return to the base once reinforcements arrive. Reinforcements do arrive after two hours, almost six times the amount of peacekeepers they're replacing in this section of the front. As the new soldiers take up position, we enter the armored cars and return to the base for much-needed rest.

Back at the base, I meet suprise. The portion of the base that makes up the infirmary is aflame, clouds of smoke and ash rising slowly from the windows. Peacekeepers and the bases firefighter struggle to spout icy water upon the crumbling furnace. They slug into the flames of the building, some returning with others pulled from the claws of death, some stumbling out and collapsing on the ground from exhaustion, some not returning and being doomed to join their brethren. Screaming and crying can be heard as bodies hurdle from the windows and plummet to the grounds of the bases courtyards, dying of the fall or sustaining injury in equal measures. Medics pump their hands on the chests of those pulled forth, only sometimes with sucess. Other onlookers watch as this tragedy unfolds. Hovercrafts overhead pour fire retardant upon the inferno, medical camps are set up all throughout the courtyards that surround the medical wing of the castle-like structure.

I can only imagine the horror inside. Comatose warriors who were incapacitated in battle will be forced to suffocate. Fresh recruits who were to receive a regular physical or treatment for an accidental injury are to die in the fires. Doctors preforming surgery will at best accidentally kill their patents after the blast knocks them over, and at worst will kill them both. Visiting family members who wanted to check up on injured relatives in service, those afflicted by desiese, young babies rescued from dumpsters and doorsteps and were being processed to be sent to the orphan home, shell shocked or otherwise mentally upset peacekeepers relieving counseling, all these and more are to perish in the flames. Many of those in the infirmary had nephews and cousins and parents, all of whom would miss them. Many of them undoubtably had fiancées who they promised to marry at the end of their service. Some might have had children who either grew up or are illigetimate. All these have lost someone in the flames.

I have no doubt in my mind as to who caused this, and it makes me boil over with fury and hate. I funnel all my grief, my sorrow, and my suffering into hatred of the enemy. Hatred of the person who's 'you'll burn with us' speech inspired someone to bomb a hospitol, hatred of that same person who plunged Panem into this bloodbath, hatred of that same person who welcomes rapists and child-hangers into her army, hatred of that same person who tortured my cousin Cato to death in the worst possible way. This hatred will stay with me forever, I will never stop hating Katniss, I will never forgive these transgressions. For these crimes, she must pay with her life.


	27. Chapter 27:Battle weary

The Rebs show the same fair-play they showed last week during the hospital bombing. Peacekeeper prisoners are hung from rebel hovercrafts during flights, severed heads on stakes and pikes can be seen on the roofs of rebel held buildings, suspected loyalists in rebel held parts of the district receive the same treatment. In the quarter of the district still beneath Peacekeeper law, rebel spies spread havoc. One evening, while guarding an execution outside the justice building, I heard an impressive display of cruely. The rebel was dragged out and shot in the head. The head peacekeeper read out his crime. "The man was found to be helping the rebels. In the cellar of his house was the mutilated body of a pregnant woman. He raped and murdered her because she was in a relationship with a peacekeeper." The crowed of onlookers appeared just as repulsed as I was. The crime committed wouldn't forward the revolution more than a nanometer, yet the dead bastard on the floor was willing to rape and murder for that.

On the battlefield the Rebs fight with more brutality each day. Like hoards of screeching savages, they run onto the field and are cut down by our resistance. Their strategy seems to be swamping our defenses and overwhelming us with superior numbers. Every day of our defense cuts only a small portion of a small portion from the sea of angry attackers. If I kill one, three replace him. If a morter kills twenty, one hundred replace them. It's a drop from the ocean, but the ocean is one drop dryer from our efforts.

My comrades and soldiers are weary, the white uniforms are stained red or dried brown from the blood of peacekeepers and rebels. Some are without helmets, as they can't leave their station to get another. Some are bandaged up so much that they need to be propped up to fight. Every step forward takes a month, and each slip-up sends us back a mile. Some have been awake fighting so long that they pass out from exhaustion, and their nearby comrades have to pick up their slack. I heard rumors that one poor boy in white was so shell shocked that he couldn't remember his own name, and of another who couldn't even talk and only let out sharp shrieks. The air is thick with death and smoke and ash and pain.

I shoot at the throng of rebel, no longer even bothering to aim, for I will kill someone no matter where I shoot. Next to me is Harod, who takes a rest while I shoot. He's not sleeping, as it's not possible to, he's just in a slumber like state. We have to have a covering partner to shoot while we reload, so that there is no pause to the bloodshed. Machine gun nests with three guns rattle out death, they have two people per mounted machine gun so they can take shifts. I no longer notice the sea-salt, nor the wind, nor the sun. I still notice the rain, none of us can stand the rain. It makes us wet and cold, and lessens the flash of our guns firing. My hands are numb, I no longer feel them, I've long since given up on rubbing life back into them. I, like the other peacekeepers, occasionally let out a cry of fury. I can't feel the sound vibrating through my throat, but I'm just glad I'm still alive and awake.

While shooting it begins to rain again. The salty droplets roll off the viewing visor of my helmet. Bullets fly out of my gun and slay Rebs. Some of the rebels are as young as twelve, given a rifle by their parents. Some are as old as sixty, given a pistol by their children. Though many die, I know its kill or be killed. In me corse the blood of a warrior tradition that stretches back since the founding of Panem. Honor and pride beat in my young heart, for my actions help preserve the lives of my comrades and the prosperity of my home district. As I fire into the throng, some of the Rebs hold Mockingjay flags. While my bullets pierce the body of one Reb, the flag bearer behind him clutched his flag and hurled it into my left shoulder. I fall onto my side, and hear the call for medics as my eyes slide closed.


	28. Chapter 28:Recovering

Blurry white lights shine all around, a great exhaustion overtakes me. Then everything turns spinny. I can't register any shapes, at least not at first. For what seems like both an eternity and a trillionth of a second, I'm suspended between nothing and everything. At one point, I can hear voices, two exactly. The first one sounds extremely familiar and fills me with warmth and a sense of security, it is probably that of my father. The second voice is that of Cato, of this I am sure. What ever they are saying, I can't comprehend. I drift in and out of this, and finally wake. My eyes open, and I'm in a hospital bed. A blood bag washes the red life essence back into my body. I must have lost lots of the red stuff. A torrent of pain suddenly fades in and I groan, I look and can clearly see the huge wound that covers my whole shoulder, which is wrapped in a bind to prevent movement. Ringing in my ears is Cato's voice, frantically shouting, "Stay with me" over and over again. I know that I only remember this because he said that to his fallen district partner, and that me hearing him is probably imagination, but I mumble a response so soft that only know it was ever uttered. "I won't give up yet."

Thirty minuets pass, and a doctor comes to me. He looks at me, surprised as I was that I'm still alive. I don't feel alive though, so my responses to his questions are barely whispers. My doctor wears ivory colored scrubs beneath a white doctors coat. He appears to be in his late sixties, and doesn't look like a medical peacekeeper. His voice hints to a professionalism". "Major Hardley, it's good to see your awake." "Www-where am I?" The hospital looks well organized and the beds are some distance apart. When I first woke, I expected it to be in a crowded field hospital. "You are in the district 2 acropolis, in the medical wing to be exact." District 2, how'd I get to district 2? What happened to the others? Did the reds take district 4?" The doctor tried to calm me down, answering my questions with a calmness of his own. "You were transported here via hovercraft after the severity of your injury was discovered. District 4 is still under Peacekeeper control, and they just sent in more reinforcements." Once I was calmed, he told me the important stuff. "Your left shoulder is badly injured, it will heal to its former strength, but it needs about two months time. Once it's thoroughly healed, fellow peacekeepers will pick you up and take you here, where you will be flown to your new assigned district. You'll be allowed to stay at home, but this privilege can be taken away if your shoulder doesn't heal properly." I feel the weakest Ive ever felt before, several plastic tubes are attached to me just to pump air into my lungs. I can't even breathe on my own. Still, I had to ask. "When can go to my home?" The doctor did looked down at his clipboard and read, "Between one to six weeks."

My time in the acropolis hospital is grueling, much worse than when I was in that old field hospital back in district 4. Everywhere I'm surrounded by suffering and misery. Injured and horrifically wounded are shipped in from every corner of Panem, often barley alive. Though I'm allowed to walk around the hospital, which is shut off from the rest of the acropolis, its all equally miserable. Talking with other injured peacekeepers in the hospital mess hall reveals only sorrows; throughout all of Panem east of the Rockies are uprisings. Untold horrors were seen by me and the other injured peacekeepers, and none of the news I receive from or give to them is comforting. Rebels committing cannibalism in district 5, decapitation executions of peacekeeper POWs in district 7, extreme collateral damage dolled out to the civilian population of district 8, the pregnant mayor of district 6 being hung by barbed wire, among other cruelties. Some of the districts already fell, I fear what will happen to loyalists in those areas. The District 4 garrison has already began evacuation of civilians from areas still held by peacekeepers, but it would be impossible to get them all out.

In particular, one peacekeeper, who sat in a wheelchair, told me a doleful retelling of his experiences in district 10. As I sat speechless at the table, he described how out of his entire peacekeeper legion, only 489 survived. As I listen to his gory struggle for survival, I take in the image of this shadow of former strength. He sits, a frail figure with legs mangled as though a knotted rope. A chunk is missing from the top of his head, and his left ear was gone. It is clear that this sorrowful survivors fighting days were done, and that he would be honorably discharged once he healed enough. As I thought of this sorrowful figure before me, I also thought of Cato. Cato was a prime example of physical strength and determination to the very end, yet he still suffered a gruesome fate. I doubt I will be spared that fate, but I must show the same courage and valor that the veteran before me showed in district 10, and that Cato showed in the games. But right now, I just want to get out of this hospital.


	29. Chapter 29:Released

Weak. Too weak to walk, to sit up, to even move. Tubes pump air through my nostrils and into my lungs, as I lack the strength to do so myself. It's midnight, and I'm awake. I make no noise, but cannot bear to sleep. Instead, I listen to the rhythmic beeping of the machines that keep some alive, I listen to the sobbing and screams of peacekeepers psychologically injured, I listen to the patter of the footsteps doctors on night shift take, I listen to the snoring and soft breath if others, I listen to the stillness. My shoulder is still numb, as morphling had to be administered so the pain wouldn't be too much. Once the morphling wears off, I'll be allowed to stay at home for the rest of my time here. I can't wait to see Annona again, I haven't seen her since my last visit. It's more than just a desire to leave the confines of this hospital bed, its a desire to see my love while I still can. I don't know how much longer I have left, but I'm not thinking ahead that far. I'm not afraid to die; actually I shouldn't say that. I'm still afraid that it will hurt, like Cato went. Or that the cause it is for won't succed, and more will die after me. I wonder what I'll find on the other side, but that's more philosophic curiosity than fear. Death does scare me. However, I'm not a coward, crippled by fear and primal self-preservation, willing to do and rationalizing anything to prolong my own life, going on and on about how beautiful life is and how awful it is to die in a war. I hold that everyone will die eventually, and that it might as well be for a noble cause. I'd rather be a dead hero than a dead coward, as that is the choice; not dead hero or live coward. Even if the uprising is crushed before I can be redeployed, and future generations live without ever learning of the Mockingjay, I'll still die. I'll still die, and so will everyone else alive today, everyone born today, and everyone who will ever be born. It is just the way of things.

In the morning, nurses bathe me with sponges, as lying in bed for days will dirty anyone. Once I am dressed in a uniform, I head over to the train terminal. I wait in the line as other commuters pile into the train. Soon it's my turn, so my mob fill up the space in the train. Since this one just takes us from the acropolis to the train station in the district square, it's designed to accommodate large groups of people. The only seats are at the side of the train car, and metal poles are in the center of it so people can stand. As my train car rides down the slope of the mountain, I can see out the window. The outer surface of the mountain is still primal, with trees and wildlife and sparse log cabins. Most of the cabins we pass are abandoned, but others are inhabited and have smoke rising from stone chimneys. Soon, we reach the base of the mountain, and finally the train station of the district square. As the door opens and I exit the metal cylinder, I notice one face in the crowd.

After seeing Annona, she sees me, and runs over to greet me. My arms wrap around her in a hug, the warmth brings comfort. I tell her, "It's good to see you." I release her from my arms, she smiles. "I'm glad to see you too." She then notices the cast on my left shoulder, her facial expression changes to concern. Reassuring her, I say, "Don't worry about me, the doctors said my shoulder will heal in two monthes. I'll be redeployed once it does, but until then I am all yours." She relaxes a little, and I continue. "So tell me, how have things been going at home?" She responds, "Didn't you read my letters?" I chuckle a little, "Yes, but I have had to sit in a hospital bed for who-knows-how-long. I am sure something must have happened during that time." As we head out of the train station and into the parking lot, she tells me about her time here. "Things have been going how they usually go. In district 1, they're building statues for Cashmere and Gloss." I'm not surprised, those two were district 1 royalty. Annona continues as we walk down the long line of vehicles in the parking lot. "They are drafting most of the men into service, and many of the women are enlisting. District 2 seems like its going to war." It already is at war, all other options failed. As I climb into the coach seat of the cart, I hold my hand out to help her in. As we ride down the streets, we talk more. "So, what's it like being a Peacekeeper?" This makes me think. I know that as a peacekeeper in training, I spoke of honor and gallantry, but my mouth can't form those words. I think about the killing and dying, and shake the thoughts away while I can. Then I think about my experiences executing pedophiles and rapists and murderers and saboteurs, of the two monsters I saved Annona from, and of how better the world is without them. I finally answer Annona's question, "It's a job that has to be done."

As we ride through my home district, it looks almost completely different from my last visit. Munitions factories and weapons manufacturers grind day and night, pumping hot metal into shape. Public speakers denounce the revoult, Katniss, Peeta, and sometimes all three of them, gathering large crowds of eager listeners. Pictures of Katinss are burned in front of cheering onlookers. Mockingjays themselves are hunted to the point of endangerment. The speakers aren't always peacekeepers, sometimes they're victors, sometimes they're veterans, sometimes they're regular of the rebels seems non-existent in this district, but despite all the support, Its hard to hear people claim that this war will end in a month. I feel like it won't end for years, but I must still fight onward.

During the long ride from the city that surrounds the district square to my village, she goes into greater detail about all that happened while I was away. Victor Enobaria has successfully escaped the rebel attack on the 75th hunger games, and has formed an agreement with the other Victors of district 2 that they will pool their resources towards the war effort. Most agreed, but there were some holdouts. In particular, Lyme not only refused to agree to this, but openly criticizes the war effort. Some Victors were already Peacekeepers when the war began, and almost all District 2 Victors are careers without exception. Lyme herself was a career, so it would rub some the wrong way for someone living off Capitol dime to undermine its efforts. I know this war will be long, but I hope it won't be long enough for the atrocities of the dark days to begin anew.

It's not safe to ride at night, so I turn on a flashlight. The rays of illumination cut through the dark shadows, revealing the cobble beneth. My white peacekeepers uniform feels too big without armor underneath, and the wind is especially cold. Soon she falls asleep on my shoulder, and the sun has fully set. I'm glad she feels safe with me, its a good feeling. And as long as the Rebs don't come here, she'll stay safe.


End file.
